Notoriety
by AquilusNyx
Summary: The trauma of Harry's past is beginning to catch up to him. With problems at McKinley and Remus becoming more unstable, he's going to need Kurt and the Glee Club more than ever. How far can you push a hero before he snaps? Anonymity sequel, some triggers.
1. Chapter 1

_His cupboard is dark and cold. The ratty blanket is too small for him; he's had the same one since he was five, and there are holes and stains on every inch of its once-fleecy surface. Still he huddles beneath it, its familiar weight curled around his tiny shoulders as he listens to the shouts outside, the cracks of wood splintering and roaring fires. Someone is pounding on the door of his cupboard, and they're pulling the door of its hinges and dragging him into the fight outside. There are faceless people in black or white running all around, blood pouring from wounds and wands firing. He's running through the masses, through the hallways from St Mungos, dodging and weaving through bodies and screams and fire. He wants to stop, help the fallen, run the other way but he can't, he can't, he has to run on and on, but there's blood all around and he's falling. Someone rushes to his side but it's not Kingsley, Kingsley is tall and dark and strong and this boy is pale and slim and pretty. He sees the Death Eater sneaking up behind his saviour, raising their wand. He has to protect him, stop the wizard and protect -_

Harry was already shooting off a spell as he wrenched out of his nightmare. He was out of bed and armed before his eyes were open, defences up, magic ready. His deep green eyes flicked around the room, searching for threats and dangers, seeing nothing out of the ordinary but a smoking black smudge on his bedside table where his alarm clock had been. The wizard sighed._ Poor little clock. I probably can't fix you this time._

Harry re-holstered his wand in its invisible holster on his chest, shaking his head at his own paranoia. He took deep breaths as his heart rate began to slow from Fight-Or-Flight to relative relaxation, the images from his nightmare still flickering in his head. _Fuck, that was __**with **__a Calming Draught. Here's to hoping it's just a bad night and not a sign that it isn't working anymore._

Harry sat back down on the edge of his bed, reaching into his bedside table for another Draught. He swallowed it with a grimace, the once-pleasant taste beginning to burn his throat as he took more and more of it. He dumped the empty vial into his drawer with a scowl, rubbing his face with one calloused hand. He winced when it tugged his scars, pulling the pink flesh taut where there wasn't any room to give. They never let him forget that they were there; they either itched or ached as the skin tried to heal against the efforts of Bellatrix's poison. _Talk about your constant reminders._

There was a tentative knock on his door, and Harry slipped his wand back out to un-Silence his voice.

"Come in," he rasped, wincing when he heard how weak it was. _Must have been screaming last night. Shit. Thank Merlin for Silencing Charms. _His door slipped open a little, Remus sticking his head in nervously. Harry gave him a weak smile.

"I - uh - I heard a noise from in here. Everything all right?" the werewolf asked tentatively, eying the blackened patch of table where the clock had been. Harry sighed.

"Yeah, fine. The clock just startled me awake."

"What spell did you use?" Remus asked curiously, hesitantly running a finger over the burn mark. He pulled his finger back quickly with a hiss, the tip slightly red, and the patch of dark wood seemed to glow a little. Harry shrugged, sheepishly scratching his face.

"No idea. I may have just blasted it with pure magic. I do that sometimes, when I'm startled. It does something different every time, I can't predict it."

"Pure magic is a bit like that. I've only done that once, when I was about your age. I was cornered by a group of muggle thugs and I accidentally turned them all into jack-in-the-boxes. I would have been arrested if I hadn't been able to prove that it was raw magic," Remus recalled, shaking his head. He shifted in the doorway, smiling an understanding smile. "I'll get you a new clock today. You'd better get ready. You're meeting Kurt for breakfast, aren't you?"

"Yes! Right, I'd better hurry. Thanks, Remus," Harry waved vaguely as Remus slipped back outside and closed the door, stepping over his comforter, which was in a tangled heap on the floor, and approaching his wardrobe. He shook off the last uneasiness left over from the dream and turned his thoughts to something much more preferable; Kurt, his boyfriend of exactly two months today.

It wasn't hard to think about him. Not only was the flamboyant countertenor always close to the front of Harry's mind, he had recently insisted on helping the wizard redecorate his room and buy a new wardrobe, so everywhere Harry looked there were little touches of Kurt.

"A room is meant to be an expression of yourself, Harry," Kurt had insisted, gesturing earnestly with a swatch of paint colours in the isle of the local hardware store. "You told me yourself that then you decorated originally you were just trying to look like a stereotypical teenager. Now is your chance to infuse your space with your personality, with something that speaks to you and you can connect with... and something that compliments your skin tone."

"Uh huh," Harry had drawled doubtfully, pining Kurt with an amused look over the carpet samples in his arms. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with letting you play interior designer on a millionaires budget."

Kurt had flushed red at that, his insistent expression shifting into guilty, and he had dropped his blue green eyes down. He had shot Harry a sheepish glance and muttered, "Well, that may be a little part of it. Not all of it! I really do think that you should have a nice space, but..."

"It's fine, love," Harry had then leaned over the carpet samples and pressed a light kiss to Kurt's cheek, having to rock up onto his toes to do so. "You're right, the room does lack any real personality. But I'm not going with silver and green. It has bad connotations for me, I'll tell you sometime."

The end result was a room that delighted Kurt, satisfied Harry, and confused Remus. The walls were a silver-tinted lilac, the carpet was grey, and all the furniture was white and curly. It was very girly, and Harry admitted that, but it just felt right to him; almost like being at Hogwarts, where everything was fancy and ornate. As for the purple -

"It's my favourite colour, okay?" Harry had huffed at Kurt's raised eyebrow when he'd pointed out the paint, making the flamboyant boy giggle.

"Hey, I'm not judging, sweetie. In fact, it's a good colour for you. Looks good against dark hair and brings out your eyes. If I can't get you in green, it might just be the next best thing," Kurt had hummed as he squinted at the paint, a playful smile twitching at his lips. "I'm just picturing Finn's face the first time you invite him over."

"I'll set up a camera to record the moment. Now what were you saying about lampshades?"

It had taken them hours, time that Harry thought could have been much better spent cuddling in front of Moulin Rouge on Kurt's couch, but they'd gotten it together and roped Finn and Rachel into helping paint, finally setting up Harry's room in a way that felt more like Harry. Gone was the Manchester United poster - in its place was signed RENT poster that Harry had found online. The soccer ball was gone from the corner, replaced by an MP3 player dock for Harry to blast out his music as he practiced steps for Glee or just did homework at his desk. The pictures of his parents and Ron and Hermione had new companions - photographs of the Glee club from Sectionals and in rehearsals, with a picture of Harry and Kurt singing karaoke at the post-Sectionals party in pride of place. The wizard let his eyes linger on that one as he walked into his wardrobe, on Kurt's wide smile and sparkling eyes, before he had to pay attention so as to not trip on any of his suddenly numerous shoes.

The clothes were also Kurt's idea, but Harry's choice. Kurt had reminded Harry of his promise to allow Kurt to take him shopping if the taller boy had resisted the urge to kill Rachel the week after Sectionals and Delmonico's arrest, and before Harry knew what was happening he was sitting in the passenger seat of Kurt's enormous car, Mercedes, Tina and Rachel squished into the back and Santana, Brittany and Quinn in the car behind theirs, driving off to the closest decent mall to Lima in Columbus. Kurt and the girls had screamed along to a Britney Spears song Harry didn't know while the wizard had surreptitiously filmed and photographed them on his phone. The six girls and two boys had covered barely half the mall that day, despite being there from opening til closing, and Harry had tried on so many clothes that at one point he'd simply walked shirtless from one department to another - he hadn't seen any point in putting his t-shirt back on if he was only going to take it off in a minute. He had been a little worried about offending the girls, but it had just made Tina and Rachel blush, amused Quinn and Mercedes, and sent Brittany and Santana into paroxysm of laughter when they had seen Kurt's reaction. The flamboyant boy had frozen mid-sentence when he'd looked up, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Harry's pale, scarred chest on display. Harry had flushed under his gaze.

"We're only going about 12 metres," he'd pointed out in a mutter, his shirt over one shoulder. "I'm getting sick of taking it off. Sorry, I know the scars are kind of gross."

"Scars?" Kurt had asked, his voice faraway. Mercedes had started laughing here, and Santana had swaggered over and slipped an arm around Harry's bare shoulders.

"I think what Lady Face means to say is that he couldn't see the scars for the six-pack," she had drawled, making Brittany grin and Rachel blush darker. Harry had blinked at her, finally raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"I'm... sorry? I don't understand what you mean."

"Never mind," Kurt had interrupted, face red and eyes glaring furiously at the smirking Santana. "It's fine. You look fine-"

"_Damn_ fine."

"Shut up Santana. Let's just head over to the button-ups."

They'd gone to the button ups, then the jeans, then the shoes, then moved onto another store to repeat the process. At every store at least one girl would get distracted by a pair of shoes or some earrings, or on one memorable occasion We R Who We R coming onto the radio, prompting the eight teenagers to stop and dance along. At another point Mercedes had dragged them into a comic book shop, citing an embarrassing love of them, and while Quinn and Harry browsed (she for her boyfriend, him for Ron) the rest of the group had converged in a corner to gossip. By the time Harry and Quinn managed to drag Mercedes away from an argument with the store clerk about indie comics versus mainstream they had to save Kurt, Tina, and the two other Cheerios from an angry diatribe by Rachel on feminism and women in comic books. Despite all the disruptions and the tedium of trying on clothes, Harry had enjoyed that day. There was a lot of laughter and camaraderie, and while Kurt did suggest some pretty out there clothes ("Kurt, are those sequins?" "...Maybe." "**No**.") he took it well when Harry vetoed them. In return, Harry allowed himself to be plied with accessories and far more clothes than he actually needed, admitting quietly to Tina that he had no idea how to accessorise and most of the scarves and brooches they had bought would sit untouched in his room. She had smiled sympathetically and gone back to texting Mike.

Today, however, he felt like he should make an effort. It had been two months since he'd finally wised up and realised that he had feelings for Kurt, two months of confessions and dates and chaste kisses, and to celebrate he'd asked the boy out to breakfast and bought him a little present; a pair of crystal cuff-links that Kurt would kill him for buying if he knew the price. Harry grabbed clothes haphazardly, trying to remember which pieces Kurt liked, finally settling on a black button-down with a purple t-shirt underneath, black jeans and a pair of boots. After a moment's hesitation he also grabbed a brooch in the shape of an owl; his concession to accessorising. Despite hours of watching Project Runway and Next Top Model with Kurt, clothes were still somewhat of a mystery to Harry._ I'm still going to look like a tween eyesore, what the hell difference does it make if my jeans are designer? Whatever, Kurt will like it._

Harry jumped in the shower quickly, charming himself dry before tugging his clothes on. He wondered what time Kurt had gotten up at in order to get ready, concluding that it had probably been at least an hour ago, before heading back into his room to grab his stuff for school. He shouted a quick goodbye to Remus as he ran out the door, eager to get to Kurt's, and tried to ignore the sight of the empty Calming Draught vials on the kitchen bench.

Kurt's baby was parked in Harry's driveway when he walked out the front door, Kurt sliding out of the driver's seat and shutting the door. Harry's slipped into an involuntary smile when he caught sight of his boyfriend, his grin stretching a little wider when he took in the boy's red jeans, black button up, and red bow-tie - it was the same outfit he had worn the day they had met.

"Good morning, beautiful," Harry murmured as he reached Kurt's side. Kurt was smiling as widely as Harry, reaching out to wrap his arms around the smaller boys shoulder and pull him into a gentle kiss.

"Hello to you too, handsome," Kurt rolled his eyes at Harry's scoff, pinching the boy's waist with two fingers. "Enough of that, you look gorgeous today. Purple really is your colour. And you accessorised! I feel special."

"You should," Harry agreed, reluctantly dropping his hands off Kurt's shoulders to reach into his bag. "I got you a little something."

"My version of little or your version of little?" Kurt asked suspiciously, pulling back a little. "Because your version of little seems to be a little different from mine."

"The scarf I got you for our one-month-aversery was little."

"It cost $600, Harry."

"Yeah, but it was _small_."

"Harry," Kurt's voice held a note of warning, even as his lips twitched into a smile and his eyes sparkled with happiness at the sight of the carefully wrapped box and the blue-green ribbons tied lovingly around it. "It's very sweet, but you don't need to spend so much on me."

"Who else am I going to spend it on?" Harry shrugged, pressing the gift into Kurt's long-fingered hands. "I'm not trying to buy you, love. I just like spoiling you a little bit. You deserve it."

Kurt took the gift in one hand, raising the other to cup Harry's cheek. He ducked his head down to press their lips together, then pulled back to look into Harry's eyes, "Being with you is reward enough for anything. But thank you, Harry."

"You haven't even opened it yet," Harry pointed out, feeling his face heat up. Kurt giggled.

"I'm getting there," Kurt tugged the ribbon off the box, carefully slipping it into his pocket. He peeled off the tape delicately, unfolding the wrapping paper like it was the present, rather than keeping him from it. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the silver embossed lettering on the lid of the box, and he shot Harry a droll look. "Swarovski, Harry? Really? That's not little."

"It's tiny," Harry corrected, sticking his tongue out a little. "Open it!"

Kurt dutifully removed the lid, sighing happily when he saw the glittering cuff-links. "Harry, they're gorgeous."

"So you match then," the wizard quipped, and Kurt just shot him an affectionately exasperated look. Kurt sniffed, trying to look disapproving but ruining it by grinning.

"Well, even if you were _very bad _in getting me something so expensive when I told you not to," he began, already handing the box for Harry to hold so he could undo the cuff-links he was already wearing. "Thank you, Harry. I love them."

"You're welcome," Harry smiled softly as Kurt put them on, admiring the way the soft light of early morning played on Kurt's pale skin. "Happy two-month-aversary."

"Happy two-month-aversary," Kurt giggled, taking the box from Harry's hands and tossing it through the open driver's door window into the car so he could crush the smaller boy into a hug. He jumped away pretty quickly, pulling his door open and jumping up into the car. "Now come on! If we want breakfast before school we're going to have to hurry."

"Right," Harry agreed, hurrying around to the passenger door and climbing in. He blushed a little at Kurt's sympathetic look as he hoisted himself up - the car was a little too high for him to be comfortable. _I should start carrying around a box to stand on. Or a step ladder_. Kurt politely didn't say anything.

"How did you sleep?" Harry asked as Kurt backed out of the driveway. Kurt gave a fluttering laugh and blushed.

"Terribly. I was up half the night trying to decide what to wear, and then I was so excited I couldn't sleep."

"And finally you settled on what you wore when we first met?" Harry grinned, reached out with one finger to trace the silver thread on the cuffs. Kurt shot him a smile.

"Well, it seemed to make an impression then," he pointed out loftily, raising an eyebrow. "Though I'm still impressed you remembered what I wore the first day we met."

"Yeah, get Ron and Hermione to tell you about the Pants Thing some times. I'm sure they'll be delighted to tell you."

"How are they, anyway?" Kurt asked, eyes firmly on the road as they stopped at a red light."Have you spoken to them since last week? How did Hermione's protest go?"

"Which one? The one where two thousand people showed up in a ministerial office and sang or the one where she stormed a minister's office and spent six hours arguing with him?" Harry deadpanned, shaking his head. As far as Kurt knew the protests were about rights for refugees, and technically they had been; refugee centaurs who were being displaced from their forests. "She nearly got arrested for causing incidents in both of them."

"Why wasn't she?" Kurt asked, laughter in his voice. "And what were they singing, if I may ask?"

"I have no idea what they were singing, I was afraid to ask, but Hermione..." Harry paused, hesitating like he always did when he had to bring up some way he was 'special'. He didn't like lying to Kurt about his past, even though nothing he said was technically incorrect, but there were times when half-truths were all he could give. Now, at least, he could give Kurt most of the truth. "She gets away with a lot because she technically has security clearance that allows her into any minister's office. She isn't meant to use it for that, but they can't actually stop her."

"Security clearance? Because she trained with you?" Kurt slowed for a stop sign and took a moment to shoot Harry a curious look. The wizard nodded with an embarrassed shrug. "Does that mean you had security clearance too?"

"Yeah," he said shortly, looking out the window. Kurt dropped the subject instantly; he knew Harry well enough not to push. Harry knew how curious Kurt was about his past, about his training and the things he could do, but he never asked or pushed Harry to talk about it. He just quietly offered his ear and his support, slyly changed the subject when any of the Gleeks mentioned the British War, and convinced the Glee boys to watch Burlesque rather than Die Hard on their movie night when he saw Harry's face as he looked at the cover.

("For you, it's an action packed thriller. For me, it's a flashback waiting to happen," the wizard had grumbled as he and Kurt grabbed popcorn from the kitchen. Kurt had just kissed him on the cheek.

"It's okay, sweetie. Christina Aguilera gets naked in Burlesque, and I told them that it would get them points with their girlfriends, so the boys will be happy. It's not like they haven't all seen Die Hard a hundred times anyway.")

Harry turned away from the window to look at Kurt, who was shooting him worried glances out of the corner of his eye. Harry smiled at him, relaxing a little now that his past wasn't the topic of conversation, and cheerfully added, "Also, Ron snapped and called his academy instructor a raging twatpumpkin."

"A what?" Kurt laughed, relaxing his hands on the steering wheel a little. Harry shrugged.

"A twatpumpkin. He didn't know what it meant either, it just sort of burst out. Surprisingly, the instructor wasn't angry. He just started laughing, because he apparently had a thing about pumpkins. He has an enormous pumpkin tattoo on his back that he showed Ron, and they spent the next two hours trading pumpkin soup recipes and discussing pumpkin carving."

"What is... I don't even..." Kurt was shaking his head, and when they pulled up at another set of lights he looked over at Harry with a bemused expression. "Your friends have the weirdest lives, Harry, I swear."

"Tell me about it," Harry shut his eyes lazily as the light turned green and Kurt turned back to driving. "I used to think -"

He was cut off by a startled cry from Kurt and the sensation of the car suddenly serving to the side. There were tires screeching and he was thrown into the window, and when he heard the crunch of metal his magic kicked in and through a shield around him. But the car was undamaged, and Kurt was quietly swearing to himself as he pulled over to the side of the road, undid his seat belt and jumped out. Harry looked around wildly, his magic and his pulse racing under his skin as he tried to work out what had just happened. He could see out the window a car with its bonnet smashed on a light post, a dazed man climbing out of the passenger seat with a cell phone in his hand. He wasn't bleeding and didn't appear to be hurt, and Kurt was rushing over to him shouting.

_He must have run the light and nearly hit us. I should get out and help Kurt._

Harry moved to undo his seat belt, glancing down as he did it.

_My hands are shaking. That isn't right, they shouldn't be shaking. Why are they shaking?_

He looked up again with a frown, looking for Kurt. He was still talking to the man who had crashed, hands on his hips and waving apologetically to passing motorists as the man looked at his feet. Harry could feel sweat trickling down the side of his face, could feel his pulse racing under his skin as his magic faded and left a strong uneasiness, making his skin crawl. He glanced around, noting the cars slowing down to see what was happening, pedestrians stopping to point at the crumpled car. He sat alone in the Navigator and shook.

_Five witnesses to the accident, three people over now. Siren in the distance, police are coming. My hands are shaking, why are they shaking? It's too hot in here, I can't breathe - six cars have passed since, it's been two minutes and thirty one, thirty two, thirty three - too hot, why can't I move? I should get out of the car - I can't move. I can't breathe and I can't move and I'm going to die in here, I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe -_

He flinched when cool, soft hands suddenly covered his where they were clutching at his seat belt. He could hear a sweet voice calling his name, but it sounded like he was hearing it under water. One of the hands was suddenly on his face and tugging his head around to look into frightened blue-green eyes.

_Kurt._

"Harry," the sound rushed back to him, and he could hear Kurt saying his name. He suddenly realised that he was hyperventilating, and crying, and he had no idea how long either of those things had been happening.

_Panic attack. Hold breath, reduce carbon dioxide in blood, allow regular breathing to resume._

Kurt was crouched over him in the driver's seat of the Navigator, quietly repeating his name and squeezing his hands and stroking his hair, "Harry, sweetie, it's all right. No one was hurt, everything is okay. We're safe, Harry, it was just a little accident and we're totally okay now. The police are here, they're dealing with it, we don't have to do anything else. Just take deep breathes, that's good. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Harry latched onto the comforting words, forcing his breathing to slow by breathing in, holding the breath, then forcing himself to breathe out for several seconds. His hands shakily let go of the seat belt to cling to Kurt's, dropping his head forward as a few more tears leaked out from behind his eyes. There were a few moments of shifting, then Kurt was sliding across to sit on the edge of Harry's seat and pulling the smaller boy into a one armed embrace. Harry leaned against him gratefully, using Kurt's solid presence to sooth his nerves and help him calm down.

_Everything is fine. There was an accident, but no one was hurt and Kurt is safe. You're okay._

"I'm sorry," Harry managed to choke out against Kurt's chest. "I don't even know why-"

"Harry, it's fine," Kurt assured him, and Harry sighed when he felt a gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head. "You can't control what your body does. I'm sorry I was so busy yelling at the idiot who almost hit us that I didn't notice at first."

"It's not your job to babysit me," Harry muttered, pulling back a little to scrub viciously at his still leaking eyes. "Fuck, what happened anyway?"

"He was texting and didn't notice the light was red," Kurt rolled his eyes, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a monogrammed handkerchief. He handed it to Harry without a word, waving off the boy's thank you. "There are some very stupid people in this town. In fact, I would even go so far as to say a lot of stupid people. But never mind. Are you feeling any better?"

"Much," Harry smiled weakly up at Kurt as he wiped the tears from his eyes and face. "I really am sorry for freaking out, I didn't even know it was happening for ages-"

"I told you, it's fine," Kurt rolled his eyes a little, but smiled to show he wasn't annoyed. "Really, I had it under control. I even found a use for the word twatpumpkin when I found out that the guy had been texting while driving. Now the police are handling it and we can go. I'm not sure we have time for breakfast now, though."

Harry winced, "Shit, I'm sorry. Wait, how long have we been here for? It can't have been that long."

"It's been nearly 20 minutes, Harry," Kurt's voice was gentle as he slid back over to his seat, wincing when he saw a slight scuff on one of his shoes from crawling over. "Damn it! These are real Docs."

"20 minutes?" Harry rocked back in his seat, his head hitting the back rest with a dull thump. "I didn't - it didn't feel like that long! How long were you in the car for?"

"About five minutes before you started reacting," Kurt admitted, his face creasing with worry as Harry shook his head. "Sweetie, it's okay."

"No it isn't. I ruined our plans," Harry muttered, scowling at his hands. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, what were you even scared of? Nothing happened!_"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I took my Dra - my meds this morning, that shouldn't have happened, fuck. I'm sorry."

"You can shut up now," Kurt rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a kiss to Harry's still flushed face. "Because I'm not angry, because it wasn't your fault. I understand, okay? Don't be so hard on yourself. Now how about we just swing by the Lima Bean and grab something to take to school? We can have a picnic in the choir room or something. We might even have enough time to have it there."

"Yeah, okay," Harry nodded, still blinking back furious tears._ Merlin, I'm so pathetic. One loud noise and an unexpected movement and I'm a wreck. And now I'm going to be on edge for the rest of the day. How did that even happen with a Calming Draught in my system? It shouldn't have been possible... unless Remus is right and you can develop a tolerance for them. Shit, do I need to take two now? That can't be good for me. Can you overdose on Calming Draughts? I'm already taking way too many, it's only meant to be what, 3 a week? I take two a day. Bumping that up to four can't be healthy-_

"Harry? We're here," Kurt's soft voice cut into Harry's thoughts, soothing him a little and making him look up. Sure enough, they were in the Lima Bean parking lot and Kurt was looking at him and biting his lip. Harry squeezed his eyes shut for second, took a deep breath and released it on a hard sigh. He glanced up again, catching Kurt's blue-green eyes and smiling.

"Great."

Kurt smiled back, and the two boys slipped out of the car and walked into the coffee shop hand in hand. Harry insisted that Kurt sit down while Harry got their drinks, and the taller boy agreed with a reluctant smile, promising to get the check the next time they went out. Harry placed their order and paid, leaving a ten dollar note in the tip jar when the Barista made a heart in the foam of Kurt's coffee, and walked back to his and Kurt's table.

Kurt wasn't alone.

Harry couldn't see who it was from where he was standing, but he could see a man with dark hair and a black coat sitting across from Kurt and holding his hands. Kurt was grinning, his eyes lit up and he was talking animatedly, apparently not concerned that his hands were being held.

_Who-?_

Harry cautiously walked the last few steps to his and Kurt's table, and Kurt seemed to see him out of the corner of his eye. His face lit up even further, and he greeted Harry cheerfully, "Hey sweetie! Look who I ran into?"

The man holding Kurt's hands looked up and around at Harry with a smile. It was the Dalton lead they had met at Sectionals, still as handsome and dapper as he had been in his uniform. _Shit, what was his name? Blair, Blake...?_

"Blaine was just admiring my new cuff-links," Kurt informed Harry cheerfully, his smile becoming a little knowing at the slight relief on Harry's face. _Blaine! That was it. Thanks Kurt!_

"I certainly was," Blaine agreed, getting to his feet. His smile didn't waver as he vacated the seat and stood beside Harry. "You have excellent taste, Harry."

"Thank you," the wizard muttered, flushing a little, very aware of the way the not-particularly-tall Dalton boy still towered over him. He put Kurt drink and muffin in front of him quietly and slipped into the seat Blaine had vacated, forcing himself to smile at the standing boy. He knew he must look a mess right now - eyes red from crying, face scarred and flushed - and he felt a little embarrassed. Kurt didn't seem to notice, just chatting to Blaine about a new book that had recently come about, a biography on someone famous that Harry had only vaguely heard of. They didn't talk for long, Blaine quickly realising that he was interrupting and excusing himself.

"Well, I had better leave you two love birds to your date," he beamed down at them, reaching down to shake both off their hands at the same time, making Kurt giggle. "Lovely to see you both again. I'll see you around!"

"Bye!" Kurt chirped, and Harry waved as the boy wandered away, his take away coffee in his hand. Kurt turned back to Harry with a smile, holding out a hand for Harry to take. "He seems really nice! I wonder what he's doing in Lima? He said that Dalton is off today, some kind of teacher meeting but isn't it in Westerville? He can't live in Lima, can he?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure you're right about Dalton being in Westerville. I almost went there," Harry nodded, taking Kurt's hand in his and reaching for his tea with the other. "It's a long way to come for a coffee."

"Maybe he lives closer by?" Kurt took a thoughtful sip of his coffee, and Harry tried to bite into his cookie._ Damn it, this thing is as hard as Hagrid's rock cakes! And they may actually have been rocks! _He put it in the side of his mouth to try and use his jaw to crack it, with no luck. He tried to break it in his hands, but it resisted. Finally he just shoved it into his mouth and tried to wear away at it. The wizard heard Kurt giggle and glanced up from his gnawing. The taller boy was covering his smile with an elegant hand, but couldn't conceal the twinkle in his eyes. "Oh Harry, you look like a mouse or something! You're adorable, you know that?"

Harry blushed a little, but managed to quip, "Well, I suppose if sexy and gorgeous are out of the question, 'adorably mouse-like' will have to do."

"You're sexy and gorgeous as well, but you're also adorable," Kurt informed him seriously, rolling his eyes at Harry scoff. "One day you will believe me when I talk, Mr Potter."

"I am well aware that you are the good-looking one in this relationship, and that's fine. You do an amazing job and you're gorgeous enough for both of us," Harry brought Kurt's hand up to his lips, lightly kissing his knuckles and making Kurt flush. "You're also the funny one and the smart one. I'll have to settle for being the one who gets to bask in your radiant presence."

"You are so full of it," Kurt informed him affectionately. Harry just grinned and stole Kurt's muffin. _Looks like the morning wasn't a total bust after all. Now I just have to hope nothing else today sets me off._

_**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE**_

A/N: Yes, it's finally here; the first chapter of the sequel to Anonymity!

Important stuff first - this will not be a happy story. This chapter is cheerful, but it's all down-hill from here. This story is about Harry reaching his breaking point, and while I guarantee a happy ending - I can't function without them - it won't be easy to get there. Remus isn't a good guy in this. He isn't bad, he isn't evil, but he will do some pretty terrible things due to his mental illness. I just wanted to make it clear from the very start that I'm not bashing him at all. I like him very much as a character in the books, but here he is an unstable, unreliable person. There is no bad guy. There is no good guy. There's no-one for Harry to fight or defeat - only his own demons. If it isn't your cup of tea, feel free to move on. I won't be offended. However, I am working super, super hard to portray mental health issues that, given Harry's background, I don't think are unrealistic. I love all of my readers so much (except you, Draco. I can't fucking stand you *points for reference*). Reviews make my day, and I'll work very hard to keep to a weekly updating schedule but this story is a lot harder to write than Anonymity.

Remember to check out TrueGlee dot net for Glee fic recommendations and stuff. I promise more features are coming soon, I'm just waiting on my sister's term to finish. I will eventually be posting a side-series in the Anonymity 'Verse over there called Sexual Experimentation for the Borderline Asexual, for those of you who are interested. I'll keep you posted in author's notes.

(Also, thank you to the reviewer who pointed out that I'd misspelled _Draught_ every single time in Anonymity. I never realised that draught and drought were spelled differently, and neither did my beta readers. #fail)

**TRIGGER WARNING:  
**This story will contain references to severe depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation. If you feel that any of these things may be triggering to you, please do not continue to read this story.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second chapter, and I think I should be able to keep to a weekly schedule. :D Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourited/etc, those notifications make my day every time. I now have my email hooked up to my phone so I'm literally alerted every time one comes in. Totally worth getting distracted at work. XD

The plot (Such as it is) thickens. Another note that I'm not bashing anyone in this fic - no-one's reactions are unreasonable or mean for the hell of it, but sometimes people do jerky things. Even good ones. THat's going to be an overall theme in this story, so please know that I love all the Glee/Harry Potter characters, so even if they're doing something asshole-ish know that they'll be redeemed.

* * *

Harry managed an hour before something threatened his tentative control. He and Kurt had screamed into school with five minutes to spare, giving Harry just enough time to walk Kurt to class and get to his own as the bell rang. He spent the lesson quietly reading a text book, grateful for the reprieve to shake off as much of the paranoia his panic attack had left him with as possible. He also felt something unpleasant when he thought about Blaine the Warbler, but he couldn't work out what._ He seems like a really nice guy, and Kurt really likes him. What's wrong with that?_

Like most classes at McKinley, the room wasn't particularly focused. Most people were chatting or studying on their own as the teacher argued with a jock over a failing grade ("But, like, I had football practice and shit, why can't you just pass me?" "Because you haven't gotten a single test answer right all year, and you haven't handed in any assignments." "So?"). Artie was sitting next to Harry, balancing his text book on his lap while he rocked back in his chair. If he'd noticed the redness of Harry's eyes he hadn't mentioned it, but he had seemed to be making an effort to be as silly and funny as possible. Harry was about to ask him about something he'd just read in the textbook when he felt a shot of warning down his spine, and his hand snapped out to catch the eraser that was about to hit the back on his head._ Whoops, I couldn't see that. Let's hope they don't ask questions and just assume I'm a ninja._

"Can I help you, Karofsky?" Harry sighed, knowing full well who was sitting behind him and who had thrown it. He turned in his seat to shoot the larger teenager an unimpressed look, the satisfied smirk on his face making the wizard nervous. Azimio snickered as Karofsky puffed his chest out and leaned back in his chair.

"I just wanted to compliment you on how very faggy you look today, Potter," the boy drawled, making Azimio laugh harder. "You're out doing yourself. I bet soon you'll be wearing skirts and heels like your girlfriend, right? Then your transition from loser to faggot will be complete."

"Thank you for noticing, Dave. I did it just for you," Harry deadpanned, making Artie hide a laugh in a cough. Something flashed in Karofsky's eyes before his face twisted in an ugly scowl.

"Fuck off, fag, it makes me sick enough to be around you already. You don't have to try to make it worse," he snarled, and even Azimio seemed surprised by this vehemence. Harry quickly forced his expression from surprised to cold and he snorted.

"You're the one who _noticed_, Karofsky. Don't blame me for your interest,"The wizard started to turn back around again, only to find a firm hand on his shoulder yanking him back around. Before he knew what he was doing he was grabbing the wrist of that hand and twisting it, stopping just shy of snapping the arm in three places. His magic surged, bubbling just under his skin and making his eyes flash. For a moment he was a soldier again, disabling a threat. Then the world caught up to him and he was a teenager about to break a classmate's arm for grabbing his shoulder unexpectedly.

"Shit," he hissed, dropping Azimio's arm like it was scalding. Azimio had cried out when Harry grabbed him, so the room was silent and shocked as the jock wrenched his arm back and cradled it with the other. Harry's heart was in his throat, pulse racing. _Shit, I'm an idiot. Why did I panic? I knew what was happening, I knew that it was him, I'm so stupid! Merlin, what's going to happen now? I just attacked another student. I could be expelled. Shit, shit, fuck-_

"Mr Azimio, are you all right?" the teacher was rushing over, but to Harry's surprise Azimio forced a laugh.

"Yeah, we were just messing around," the jock grinned a slightly pained grin, ignoring the incredulous look from both Artie and Karofsky. When he went on he shot his friend a pointed look. "It's not like Potter could actually hurt me. He's, like, half my size. We were just playing. Sorry for shouting."

The teacher looked suspicious but eventually nodded, slowly making his way back to his seat, "Well, all right. Let's keep the rough housing to a minimum, okay, boys?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, his eyes firmly on his desk. Karofsky leaned over and muttered to Azimio.

"Dude, what-?"

"You think I want people to know I almost got my arm broken by a gay midget?" Azimio hissed back, and Harry shut his eyes. _Oh Merlin. I can't believe my arse was just saved by Azimio's ego. _"Shut up, dude, he's stronger than he looks."

"I'll make you a deal, Azimio," Harry muttered back, allowing a little magic to make his voice carry danger with it. "You don't tell anyone, I don't tell anyone. Win/win."

"That was my idea, fairy-boy," the jock growled, but kept his hands under the desk. Harry went on, his voice slightly apologetic.

"And - don't grab me like that, yeah? I lived in a war zone, my reflexes are kind of dangerous."

Karofsky gave him a flat look, gently prodding Azimio's arm to see if it was injured, "So what you're saying is that you're not just a gay midget, but a crazy gay midget?"

"Crazy bisexual short-arse, more accurately," Harry corrected with a shrug. He turned around then, facing his text book with a scowl. "And yes, yes I am."

"Fucking weirdo," Karofsky muttered, then fell silent. Harry sighed. _Yep. That's me. The fucking crazy bisexual short-arse weirdo who breaks people's arms when they startle him_. The wizard sighed and glanced around, catching Artie's wary gaze. He smiled weakly, and got a weak smile in return from the boy in the wheel chair. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to react so strongly, I was just - I'm kind of on edge today."

"Yeah," Artie nodded emphatically, but Harry could see the hesitation in his movements, the way he couldn't meet Harry's eyes. "It's cool. He deserved it from all the shit he was saying anyway. Doesn't it bother you, when he calls you that stuff?"

"Not really," Harry shrugged, sinking a little lower in his chair when he saw the hard look the teacher was giving him. "It doesn't mean much to me, honestly. I don't like it when they call Kurt that to his face, because it does mean something to him, but when it's just me I couldn't care less."

"Sure," Artie nodded again, looking back at his textbook with a frown. "Just - sure. Cool."

"What?" Harry frowned, cringing when he saw Artie flinch a little. _Oh shit, he's afraid of me. Well done, Potter, you've officially become a danger to others. _Artie glanced away, hands on his wheels tightly.

"It's just - _did _he startle you? 'Cause, you know. They were talking shit and then you grabbed him..." Artie trailed off, looking around nervously. Harry's eyes went wide.

"I didn't attack him because I was angry," he hissed, leaning forward furtively when a few people shot him strange looks. The wizard took a deep breath, feeling the pressure of a headache burning behind his eyes. "He scared me. I had a panic attack this morning and it makes me paranoid. I thought I was being attacked!"

"Okay, okay," Artie raised his hands, his eyes slightly wide. "If you say so. I mean, you'd know, right?"

"Artie, I'm not going to attack you," Harry scowled, shaking his head as Artie looked at him warily. "Really. I only lash out if I have reason to think I'll be attacked. Or when I get woken up from a nightmare."

"All right, I get it," Artie assured him, lowering his hands and trying to look natural. "It's cool, man. You've just - you've got to be careful."

"I know," Harry sighed, rubbing his itching face with a scowl. His scars were itching and aching, and his head hurt and he was beginning to feel anxious- "I know, I've just - I need to get out of here."

He grabbed his books and got to his feet, shoving a hand into his pocket to grab the little laminated card signed by Principal Figgans which allowed him to leave class if he needed to. The teacher glared but nodded jerkily, and Harry took off out of the room, ignoring Artie's hissed, "Harry! C'mon, don't go!" as he left.

He managed to get to the nurse's office before he was panicking again, and he rolled the sleeping nurse away from the desk in her chair to get to the paper bags held in the top drawer. He half collapsed on the bed at the side of the room before raising the bag to his lips, already hyperventilating and tears running down his face.

_Scared - can't breath - stupid stupid stupid - not under attack, calm down - attacked a boy, just a stupid boy, almost hurt him, almost broke him, monster - scared - can't breathe, can't see - just calm down, calm down calm down calm down calm down -_

"Harry? Harry?" a faint voice was calling to him through the fog of his fear, and a presence was approaching. He curled in on himself, the paper bag crunching against his knees as he drew them up to himself. His sense of touch and sight faded away as the panic overtook him, and all he could do was shake and breathe and hear.

_Unsafe, unsafe, have to - can't breathe, I can't breathe - no, no, no closer, no closer too close I can't breathe -_

"Shit, dude, what's wrong? What do I do?"

_Monster, I'm a monster, it's too loud and too bright and unsafe and -_

"Dude! What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! I found him like this. What do we do?"

"I don't freaking know, where's the nurse?"

"I don't know, go get Mr Schue or Kurt or some shit, don't just stand there like an idiot. Harry, man, can you hear me? It's Puck. It's okay, dude, just - just take a deep breath or something, fuck."

_I can't I can't I can't I can't unsafe danger help me help me help me I can't breathe -_

"Puck, what happened?"

"I don't know, man! Me and Finn were going to class and we saw him like this! You gotta do something, I think he's gonna pass out."

"Harry, it's Mr Schuester, can you hear me?"

_Get away, get away! No no no no no nononono-_

"Shit! Mr Schue, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Puck, he barely touched me, I just over balanced. Can you go and help Finn find Kurt?"

"Yeah, I - sure."

"Okay, Harry, it's just us. Everything is fine, you're safe. Kurt will be here soon."

_Kurt? I - safe? Can't breathe, can't breathe - safe, not safe but - soft. The blanket is soft. Kurt. Kurt is coming and I'm safe. Breathe, breathe, breathe -_

"That's good Harry, that's really good. You're doing great. Just keep breathing like that, Kurt will be here any minute."

_Just breathe, I can feel the blanket and I can breathe, safe, safe, not safe, people, loud no no no nonono-_

"Mr Schue! We found-"

"Harry!"

"Dude, don't touch him, he totally knocked Mr Schue over when he did."

"Let go of me, Puck. I need to - "

"Kurt, he's right. Talk to him, but give him his space."

"I _know_, Mr Schue, I've already done this today. Harry, it's me, it's Kurt."

_Kurt. The blanket is soft and Kurt is here and I'm safe. Breathe, breathe, breathe..._

A soft hand was on his arm, cutting through the numbness of his skin. He could feel the blanket under his hand, and the softness of Kurt's hand on his arm. The paper bag was crushed in his hand, and his muscles were cramped from how he had curled up. The room came back to him, sights finally processing again, Puck and Finn standing over the crouching Mr Schuester. His breathing slowed, his heart rate dropped, and he looked to Kurt.

Kurt was looking at him with compassion, reaching up to run his fingers through Harry's hair. He waited silently for Harry to calm, shooting Finn and Puck vicious looks when they went to speak, finally gesturing for Finn to grab the box of tissues from the nurse's desk. He handed a few to Harry, politely looking away while Harry wiped the tears and drool off his face.

_Merlin's fucking beard, two in two hours. I'm a lunatic._

"Feeling better, sweetheart?" Kurt's voice was cheerful, sympathetic, and Harry couldn't help but grimace.

"'m tired," was all he could manage, slumping down against Kurt's side. He felt Kurt's arm slip around his waist, and he shut his eyes as Mr Schuester started to speak.

"I'll call your guardian, Harry. I think it would be fine if you took today off," the teacher assured him, and something made Harry open his eyes.

"Did I hit you a few minutes ago?" he asked, sitting up with a frown. Puck nodded, his face pale and kind of freaked out, but Mr Schuester shook his head.

"You knocked me over when I touched you, but that was only because I was crouching and overbalanced. You really didn't hit me that hard," the teacher shrugged casually, but Harry still cringed, the last whispers of his fear still audible in his mind.

_Monster, dangerous, murderer..._

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking down at his feet. Kurt's arm tightened around him and he was torn between leaning into the comfort and pulling away out of disgust for himself. "I didn't - I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Harry, really," Mr Schuester held up his hands with a smile. "There's not a scratch on me. I'm fine."

"Dude, what happened with Azimio?" Finn suddenly asked, his eyes on his phone. When Harry froze Kurt glared at his step-brother, but Finn just glanced up and back down to frown at the screen. "Artie just texted me asking if I knew where you were. He said something about Azimio and you being upset. Did Azimio do something?"

"No, I did," Harry muttered, still looking down. _**Monster**_... "He and Karofsky were being gits, and he grabbed my shoulder. I was still on edge from earlier and I just lashed out. I nearly broke his arm."

"Shit," Puck raised his eyebrows, but unlike Finn he looked more impressed than horrified. "You do pack a punch for a little guy, huh?"

Harry couldn't help the scoff that burst out_. Puckerman, you have no goddamn idea_, "Yeah, shame it gets directed at the wrong people."

"It was directed at Azimio. That's not the wrong people," Kurt quipped, ignoring the disapproving look from Mr Schuester. He rested his head on top of Harry's, squeezing the smaller boy against his side. "Don't beat yourself up about this, sweetie. You've had a rough day. First the accident gave you an attack-"

"Whoa, accident? What accident?" Finn asked, finally looking up from his phone with alarm. "You didn't tell me about an accident. Like, a car accident? Are you okay?"

"No, Finn. We're lying dead in a ditch somewhere. You've actually been talking to our ghosts for the last ten minutes," Kurt deadpanned. Finn looked even more freaked out.

"Wait, what?"

"Oh my god, Hudson, he's joking," Puck shook his head, rolling his eyes as Mr Schuester cringed and Harry politely covered a chuckle in a cough. "He's being fuh- fash - fasheshus."

"Facetious," Kurt corrected gently, raising an eyebrow. "And yes, I was."

Puck looked pleased with himself, puffing out his chest and smiling smugly, "Hermione taught me that word."

"Uh huh," Kurt rolled his eyes a little and continued. "Anyway, clearly we're fine, Finn. Some idiot ran a red light and nearly hit us, but we got out of the way in time and he wasn't hurt either. It was just really scary and set off Harry's anxiety."

"Woo," Harry deadpanned, raising a finger and twirling it around as though cheering. "A bloody wonderful start to my day, let me tell you."

"I'll go call Remus," Mr Schuester stood up, hesitantly patting Harry on the shoulder as he did. "You just stay in here, okay? I'll sort it out with the school. Finn, Puck, you had better go back to class, but Kurt, you can stay until Remus gets here if you like."

"Can you write a note for Mrs Hughes?" Kurt asked, slipping in next to Harry more comfortably. Mr Schuester nodded as he left. "Thanks, Mr Schue."

"Thank you," Harry added softly, shooting Finn and Puck sheepish looks as they trailed out after the teacher. "Both of you. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Don't worry about it, dude," Puck threw over his shoulder with a shrug. "What are friends for, right?"

"Right," Kurt agreed as the door to the nurses office shut. He shook his head in wonderment and murmured thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe that's the same boy that knocked up his best friend's girlfriend and invented dumpster dives."

"Wait, what was that last part?" Harry turned to look at Kurt with an alarmed scowl. "He invented that?"

"In freshman year," Kurt nodded, but he smiled and shrugged. "It's fine, Harry. He stopped doing it to me when he joined Glee, and these days he actually stops anyone who tries if he's around. People change."

"Occasionally even for the better," Harry agreed. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a tension headache throbbing behind his eyes. "I hope Mr Schuester can get through to Remus. I really just want to go to bed."

"Why wouldn't he? Was Remus going out today?" Kurt asked, tugging Harry around so he was leaning against Kurt's chest. Harry shut his eyes as Kurt started threading his fingers through the smaller boy's hair, soothing his temples with cool, soft fingertips. Harry eventually remembered how to speak.

"No, he never goes out recently. But he can be a bit out of it sometimes," Harry decided not to mention that Remus had forgotten how to work the telephone last week, despite having used one since childhood. He was just too out of it from the Calming Draughts. "That feels nice, keep doing that. Have I mentioned recently that you're my favourite?"

"I hope that means favourite person and not favourite boyfriend," Kurt quipped, not ceasing in his delicate ministrations. "I should hope that you're not hiding another one."

"Favourite person," Harry confirmed, sighing as the pain eased a little. "Scratch that, favourite anything. You're just my favourite."

"You're my favourite too," Kurt pressed his lips to Harry's brow, turning his thumbs to rub at the tense muscles in Harry's neck. There was a pause as Kurt rubbed and Harry dozed, allowing the last of his energy to settle, when Kurt started idly talking again. "So when I was talking to Blaine this morning, he told me something interesting."

"Mmm?" Harry hummed, his mind drifting back to seeing the Dalton boy that morning. It stirred something in him, something uncomfortable, but he pushed the feeling aside in favour of listening to Kurt.

"He said that the Warblers are going to be performing at old people's homes and at hospitals now that they're out of the competition."

"That's nice," Harry turned his head a little so that Kurt could stroke at a sore point on his skull. "Does New Directions ever do anything like that?"

"Just around the school. We usually get mocked for it," Harry felt Kurt shrug behind him. "But I had an idea. Last year we invited a couple of other schools to McKinley for a scrimmage, as Mr Schuester called it. I was thinking we could invite the Warblers here for a little friendly contest. They're one of the few other teams we're on good terms with, and it means they still get a chance to compete and we get to practice."

"It's a good idea," Harry agreed. "Then again, right at this particular moment I would think anything you suggested was a good idea, so maybe run it by me later."

"Okay," Kurt giggled, then his voice took on a sly edge. "So, if I were to suggest that you buy that gorgeous Michael Kors sweater I suggested-"

"The one with the sequins?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Damn," Kurt huffed a sigh into Harry's hair. "I will get you into designers if it's the last thing I do, Potter. You have a great body, and well made clothes just flatter it so nicely."

Harry snorted, "Yeah, I have a great, scarred, mutilated, hilariously tiny body. Brad Pitt, eat your heart out, Frankenstein's midget is here."

"Don't start that again," Kurt scolded, prodding Harry's side viciously. "I swear, one day you will believe me when I tell you that you're good looking. The scars are fading to white so people can see the handsome face behind them, and you have a six-pack that Artie would stab a kitten for. You're not ugly."

"You just think that because I'm your favourite," Harry muttered, sinking down against Kurt's chest a little. His face was heating up, but he couldn't help but feel a little dark shame clawing at his stomach_. I looked like a monster because I am one - fuck, not that again. I've just got to stop thinking about it._ Kurt sighed and stopped rubbing Harry's head in favour of putting his arms around the smaller boy's chest, pulling him close.

"If you can think I'm attractive despite my pear hips and freakishly large feet, I can think you're attractive despite a few scars you got whilst enduring unbelievably traumatic events," Kurt pressed a soft kiss to Harry's temple, and Harry chuckled a little.

"I like your hips," he squeezed Kurt's hand over his chest. "And Santana said big feet on a guy is a really good thing, but she didn't say why. I don't really get it."

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Kurt sighed. "Just disregard anything Santana says ever. It's probably dirty. Also, never open a link she sends you online. I did once, and now I can't look at sheep or clowns in the same way ever again."

"...please never tell me."

"I won't. What do you think is taking Mr Schuester so long?"

Harry sighed and closed his eyes again, "Probably problems getting through to Remus. I just hope he doesn't drive in if he's too... out of it."

"Stoned, you mean," Kurt tried to hide the disapproval in his voice, but Harry could hear the undercurrent. The wizard cringed.

"...yeah. He's hitting his medication pretty hard. He has too, though. He's developing a tolerance to them," he shrugged helplessly against Kurt's chest. "I am too. I took mine this morning but still had panic attacks. I might have to up my dosage too."

"Harry, no," Kurt protested, sitting up and making Harry turn to face him. "Not without seeing a doctor first. You can't just play with your medication like that, there are side effects."

"I _know_," Harry winced at his own harsh tone. "I'm sorry, but I know. I live them. But if my options are 'spend all day panicking' and 'take more drugs' I'm going with the latter. I just want to function. That's what Remus is doing too."

"He isn't functioning, though," Kurt pointed out, a note of pleading in his voice. "And can you image what it's doing to your liver? All it's doing is preventing your body from reacting, it's not helping you get over what's making you react."

"Therapy is a little difficult when your trauma is classified information," Harry pulled away from Kurt, shifting so he was sitting further down the bed. He gripped the edges of the cot tightly, making his knuckles go white, and he glared down at his knees. "I know you're right, Kurt. It isn't healthy and it's not helping me, not really, but it's my only option. And Remus is just trying to cope."

"But he's meant to be taking care of you," Kurt's voice was gentle, hesitant. "And all I see and hear about is you taking care of him."

"I can handle it," Harry insisted, looking up at Kurt with hard eyes. He softened when he saw the compassion and worry in his boyfriend's beautiful eyes, and he leaned over to kiss him softly, pulling back to smile in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Really, love. It's still better than living with the Dursleys, and Remus isn't that bad all the time. I mean, it's more frequent right now, but I'm sure it'll get better."

"One day you'll tell me what was so bad about the Dursleys," Kurt sighed, catching Harry's hand again to press a kiss to it. "But not today. Today you'll go home and relax. Do you want me to pick up homework for you?"

"Yes please," Harry looked over Kurt's shoulder to the glass wall. Mr Schuester was walking back with Ms Pillsbury, and he suddenly frowned. He glanced around the office. "Hey, where did the nurse go? She was sleeping at the desk when I came in."

"I was just thinking that," Kurt followed his gaze, craning his neck to look over the desk. "She wasn't there when I came in. Oh my god, do you think she left when she saw you? That bitch!"

"She probably went off to find a new place to sleep," Harry shook his head, smiling a little when Mr Schuester opened the door for Ms Pillsbury. He took in their pinched expressions with some wariness. "Any luck getting a hold of Remus?"

Mr Schuester hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with Ms Pillsbury, "Yeah, I spoke to him, Harry. Kurt, would you mind waiting outside for a moment?"

"He can hear," Harry assured the adults with a sigh, shaking his head. Kurt's mouth was pinched and angry, and he clung on to Harry's hands tightly. "He's - he's used to Remus. He was high, wasn't he?"

Mr Schuester nodded after a moment, and Ms Pillsbury looked at Harry with pity. The teacher took a few steps forward and grabbed one of the nurse's chairs, sitting in front of Harry and leaning in. "It sounded like it. He was slurring his words, he kept forgetting who he was talking to, and he said something about wanting a fireplace so he could catch the flu."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. _Dammit, Remus_, "Look, I know it sounds bad but he's not doing, like, heroin or something. He's had to up his anxiety medication dosage a bit, and he's not used to it yet. In a few weeks he should be back to normal."

_I hope._

"All right," Mr Schuester nodded, but Harry sighed internally_. That was the, 'I'm saying all right because you're a child that doesn't know any better but I'm now going to completely disregard everything you say' voice. I am way too familiar with that voice._"But I thought it would be better if he didn't drive, so Ms Pillsbury and I are going to take you home, okay?"

"And when we get there we would like to talk to your guardian," Ms Pillsbury's eyes were wide and earnest, and Harry resisted the urge to scowl at her. "Just to make sure he's okay, and you're okay, and that everything is - you know, okay."

_I'm beginning to hate that word. And fuck, what if Remus has left magical things lying around?_

"I should call him first, let him know you're coming," Harry thought fast, mentally forming plans in his over-tired brain to cover up any issues that were likely to occur. "He's a little weird about people coming into the house. And I'll have to go in first so he sees me first. But that's fine. I don't mind if you want to try and talk to him."

The two adults shared a look, and Kurt squeezed Harry's hand. After a moment, Mr Schuester nodded and reached for his pocket, "Okay, Harry. We'll do that. Kurt, I'll just write you a note for your teacher and you can head back to class for the last couple of minutes. Harry, why don't you call Remus?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Kurt promised, pressing a peck to Harry's lips and shooting him an encouraging smile. "Get some sleep, and thank you again for my cufflinks!"

"I expect my present-performance in Glee on Thursday," Harry grinned a little, still clinging to Kurt's hands. I wish I could stay with him. I'm calmer with Kurt than alone in my room. Kurt dropped him a wink.

"Not even Rachel's biggest tantrum could stop me," he dropped Harry's hand reluctantly and took the note from Mr Schuester. "Now, here's to hoping no one messed with my bag while I was out of the room."

"Just give me names if they have!" Harry called after him. He caught the slightly wary look from the two adults and hastily changed his line. "I'll... write them a sternly worded letter."

Kurt's laughter drifted through the closing door as he slipped away, strutting down the hall with all the defensive arrogance of someone who was waiting for someone to try to humiliate them. Harry forced himself to look away from Kurt's proud stride and to the whispering adults. Ms Pillsbury noticed his stare and shot him her usual slightly-terrified smile, getting to her feet on a bounce.

"Right! How about we start heading home now. I mean, to your home now, not to our home - homes! Because we have different homes, Will - Mr Schuester and I, we don't live together and..." she trailed off at the mutually bemused looks Harry and Mr Schuester were sending her way. "Um. Yeah. Let's go."

_So apparently Kurt wasn't kidding when he said the guidance counsellor was certifiable. Good to know._


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: Sorry! Skyrim came out yesterday. I was distracted. -_-

Note about a few questions people have been asking me: Blaine will **NOT** try to break up Kurt and Harry. It took him months in-show to work out he liked Kurt, so here he's got no chance. Harry has some insecurity regarding him, but it's all in his messed up little head. XD Kurt and Harry will **NOT** break up or threaten to break up. It might not be super-sweet all the time (although it will be most of the time) but Kurt will never leave Harry. There **WILL** be moments of levity and fluff to break up the angst - I can't read pure misery either. And Harry's pretty wry about his problems anyway, so that helps. I'll try not to get so distracted by Saints Row 3 that I forget to update on time next week. '-_-)

* * *

The walk to Mr Schuester's car was silent, Harry repeatedly trying to ring through to Remus and getting no answer. The wizard crawled into the back seat, glad to be getting into a car that fit him for once, and sighed as he finally heard his guardian pick up the phone at the other end.

"'ello?"

"Remus, it's Harry," he spoke slowly, allowing the fuzzy voice on the other end to process that before continuing. "Look, I had an anxiety attack at school and one of my teachers and the guidance counsellor are bringing me home-"

"Slow down," Remus slurred, and Harry heard a noise like he was rubbing his face. "'m confused. Where were you?"

"At school, Remus. McKinley High, remember?" Harry's face flushed at the worried look Ms Pillsbury shot him over her shoulder. "You saw me leave this morning."

"Yeah, I - yeah," Remus seemed to sigh, and Harry could hear the home shopping channel in the background. "So you're at school?"

"I'm coming home now, because I had an anxiety attack. Someone startled me," Harry waited a moment for Remus to answer. He didn't. Harry closed his eyes, his headache starting to return. "Remus, you with me?"

"Harry, I think I need a Shake Weight."

"I don't know what that is, but sure. Why not. It can sit in the cupboard with the duck shaped serving platters and the $1600 worth of fake Royal Dalton figurines we both hate," The teenager ignored the confused looks from the others in the car and repeated himself. "Remus. I'm coming home. I'm bringing people with me. Is that okay?"

"People?" Remus seemed to start into the phone, finally catching on. "Oh, you're bringing people here? I should hide the owl."

"Yes, you should. Do that now," Harry listened as Remus started calling for the bird that was apparently in the living room. "Is there anything else you need to do before the guests arrive?"

"I don't think so. Here, birdie, birdie, birdie," Remus muttered into the phone, and Harry cringed_. This man taught me a _Patronus_. He stood between me and a Dementor without hesitation. Remus, what happened to you?_"I think there are vials lying around, but muggles see those as pill bottles anyway, don't they? That's not suspicious."

"It is if they're all lying around the house," Harry muttered, trying to hide the sound from the adults in the front seat. Mr Schuester shot him a sharp look in the rear view mirror.

"Harry, he knows we're coming. Maybe you should hang up now," the teacher said pointedly. Harry got the message; the teacher didn't want Harry warning Remus to hide any evidence of mistreatment. _Why couldn't my teachers have been this diligent when I was a kid_? Harry sighed and nodded.

"Remus? I have to go now. We'll be there in 10 minutes, okay?" he winced when he heard a slight crash and a muttered curse. "Everything all right there?"

"Yeah, I just ran into the coffee table. The owl is in your room, is that okay?"

"That's fine. See you in 10 minutes, all right?"

"Harry, Harry, we need a medicine ball!"

"I'll see you in ten minutes, Remus," Harry sighed and gave up, ending the call. _Here's to hoping an Obliviate isn't in my future. If I have to do it, I'll probably get picked up by the American Law Enforcement Wizards. I wonder if the British Government will put in a good word for me?_

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Mr Schuester tapping his fingers against the wheel. Harry stared sullenly out the window, pin-pricks of pain stabbing into his eyes and keeping him from dozing off. _I'm so damn tired. When was the last time I slept without having a nightmare? Now I have to protect the Statute of Secrecy and somehow not get Remus in trouble at the same time. I just want to sleep._

"Harry," Mr Schuester spoke up from the driver's seat, looking at Harry in the rear-view mirror briefly. "I know this is hard for you, but we just need to make sure you're safe."

"Remus wouldn't hurt me," Harry snapped, then winced. _Kind of taking it out on the wrong person here, Potter._"Sorry. It's just - he's never hurt me, and he would never hurt me. He's been good to me."

"Being a guardian is about more than just not hurting you, Harry," Ms Pillsbury pointed out, turning in her seat to fix Harry with a surprisingly calm look. "It's about taking care of you and helping you. Protecting you. If this is what he's like all the time then he can't do that."

"I don't need taking care of. I've done that myself since I was two years old," Harry insisted, glaring out the window. He was just tired, _so_ tired that it didn't even occur to him to censor himself. "He _has _helped and protected me. He got me out of England. He got me away from the Dursleys. He's done more for me than anyone ever has, and doing it hurt him. If he had stayed in England he wouldn't be like this. He's a mess now, because he helped me, so I'm going to help him now. It's fair."

"No, Harry, it isn't," Ms Pillsbury's voice was oddly soothing, and Harry looked over too her involuntarily. "It isn't fair because you're the child. You're meant to be protected and taken care of. It's his job as your guardian to do those things. Being protected and taken care of aren't privileges for you to trade, they're rights that you automatically have as a child."

"They haven't been," Harry shut his eyes again, unable to bear the pity in her big brown eyes. "But we're okay. You don't need to worry about it. He's not hurting me, he doesn't drink or shout or anything, he keeps the house clean. He's a good person."

"We're not doubting that, Harry," Mr Schuester assured the boy as they pulled into his driveway. "We're just worried he might not be a good guardian."

"Maybe not," Harry murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But he's the best I've ever had."

The wizard jumped out of the car as soon as it has stopped. He strode up the driveway and onto the path leading up to the porch, jogging up the last few stairs and making for the front door. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder, and it took a moment of real concentration to avoid accidental crushing the wrist attached to it. Mr Schuester was standing right behind him, apparently having run out of the car to follow Harry and make sure he didn't go into the house alone. His car door was still open, the ever-startled Ms Pillsbury walking around to close it, and Harry sighed.

"I just want to let him know you're here. He may have forgotten," the wizard tried to sound soothing, but even to his own ears he sounded weary. Mr Schuester tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder.

"I know, Harry, but I'm going to be honest; I don't trust you not to try and hide evidence of abuse from me," the teacher's voice was firm, and Harry bristled.

"I'm not being abused!" he protested hotly, ripping his shoulder out from underneath Mr Schuester's hand. "Remus has never and would never hurt me. He's unstable, but he's not a danger to other people. Just a little bit to himself."

"That's not much better," the teacher's expression didn't change, and Harry glared up at him, his green eyes glinting behind his hair and his glasses. "You don't need this kind of stress at your age, Harry."

"The only thing stressing me out right now is you," Harry snarled, whirling around to face the door. His magic had begun to pump in his veins, and he felt his temper flaring. "If you hadn't meddled I could be asleep in bed right now instead of - of - _this_."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mr Schuester began to sound cautious, clearly hearing the rage building in Harry's voice. "But I have to know that you're safe, Harry. It's my job and my duty as your teacher."

"I appreciate that. I also appreciate that I've had two panic attacks today and it's not even lunch yet. I can barely think straight, my head hurts, and I'm exhausted, and instead of sleeping it off I'm having to defend my family from you," Harry turned around and yanked the door open, trying to blink back the tears in his eyes. _I'm too emotional for this, I need to lie down. _He strode into the house without waiting for a reaction or to see if he was being followed. He snapped his magical awareness out, trying to locate any current visible enchanted objects, but everything seemed to be either dormant or invisible to muggle eyes. He sighed when he walked into the living room to find Remus starting intently at the shopping channel, an empty vial sitting next to him on the couch. There was another one on the coffee table and another one sitting on the floor in front of the television. They were enchanted to look like typical orange pill bottles to muggles, which was usually a good cover, but right now it did not look good for Harry and Remus. The rest of the house was spotless, as it usually was, but Remus had a thing about picking up the empty Draught vials; if he didn't acknowledge them, he decided, they weren't real.

"Remus," Harry tried. His guardian looked over, his eyes widening when he saw Harry.

"Hello, Harry. Is school over already?" the werewolf smiled dazedly, patting the spot next to him on the couch. "I've bought us an at-home gym. Where do you think we should put it?"

"We'll find a place," Harry sighed, hearing Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury come up behind him. "Remus, we spoke on the phone, remember? I had an anxiety attack at school and some teachers brought me home."

Remus squinted at them for a moment, then his eyes went wide, "Right! Right, sorry. Thank you for bringing him home. I don't think I should drive today, and Kurt gave him a lift this morning. It's their two-month-aversary, you know."

Harry grimaces as Remus rambled, staggering to his feet to shake Mr Schuester's hand. He could see the panic in his guardian's eyes as some level of comprehension managed to seep through. He knew he was meant to be remembering something, doing something, but he just couldn't think what. The werewolf looked at his charge desperately, and Harry forced a comforting smile to his face.

"You had an anxiety attack?" Remus confirmed, rubbing his head. At Harry's nod he sighed. "Did you forget your-"

"I took my meds this morning, right after I woke up," Harry interrupted, not trusting Remus not to use the wrong term. He couldn't help the strain in his voice as he went on. "And I've had two attacks today. I'm exhausted."

"You must be," Remus patted him on the shoulder, and started to turn towards the door. "I'll get you some tea."

He froze when he noticed Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury still hovering in the doorway, "Oh. I'm sorry. I had forgotten you were there. Who are you again?"

"Remus, I'm Will Schuester, we met at Sectionals, remember?" Mr Schuester's voice was cautious, and Harry scowled at him. _He's a grown man and one of the most brilliant wizards currently alive. Stop talking to him like he's a rabid dog._ "This is Emma Pillsbury, the school's guidance counsellor."

"Hello," the little red head tried to smile at him, but she was staring wide eyed at the long haired werewolf like she expected him to attack her. Harry was a little less angry about this. _She kind of always looks like she expects people to attack her._ "We, um. If you have some time, we would like to talk to you about Harry."

"Harry?" Remus looked confused, looking over his shoulder to his ward. "Why do you want to talk about Harry? Did he do something?"

"No, no," the guidance counsellor assured him, stepping out from where she was half-cowering behind Mr Schuester with a nervous smile. "But we have some concerns we would like to raise with you, if we - if we can."

Remus looked at her for a long moment, then another. She was starting to fidget when he finally smiled and muttered, "Your hair looks like Lily's."

"Remus," Harry gently took his elbow, leading him back to the couch to sit down. "They want to talk to us. Are you up to it?"

"Of course," Remus looked at him like he was crazy. "I wouldn't I be, James?"

Harry closed his eyes. He could feel a familiar prickling behind his eyes, and he bit his lip. When he turned back to Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury, he had to fight to speak through the lump in his throat, "Please go. He thinks I'm my father. You won't get coherent conversation out of him today."

"Harry, I don't think we should leave you here-" Mr Schuester began. The hint of disgust in his eyes when he looked at Remus tipped Harry over the edge.

"Shut up!" Harry's shout made both educators jump, and Remus cringed back into the seat. Harry felt the frustrated tears jump into his eyes, and he shoved the hair out of his eyes with a jerky hand to glare Mr Schuester viciously. "Just get out of my house! All you're doing is stressing me out more and upsetting Remus, and now I'm going to have to calm him down before I can calm myself down and I'm probably going to panic again and it would have been fine if you'd just _left well enough alone_!"

"Harry, I just don't think this is a safe environment for you right now-" Mr Schuester tried to calm Harry down, placing himself between the raging teenager and Ms Pillsbury. The sight only made Harry angrier.

"I am safer here than I have ever been anywhere," Harry hissed, taking a step forward. His magic was swirling, but not lashing out because half his rage was directed inwards, at his memories. "Remus has never hit me. He's never flogged me for talking back. He's never locked me up in a cupboard for a week for dropping a plate. He's never told me he wishes I was dead or that I was a freak or that I deserve all the pain I've suffered. He cares about me and cares for me when he can, and right now I've got to take care of him but that's fine, because you know what? It's the best thing I've ever had. Now leave him alone and _get out of my house_!"

"James, calm down!" Remus cried out, jumping to his feet and clinging to Harry's arm. "Why are you shouting at Lily like that? You might wake Harry."

Harry felt the first few tears slip out of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. There were a few seconds of silence as Remus looked between Ms Pillsbury and Harry in confusion, Mr Schuester looked at Harry with abject pity in his eyes, and Ms Pillsbury blinked back tears. Finally, Harry managed to rasp, "Please, just - just leave."

"We'll go," Ms Pillsbury assured him, grabbing Mr Schuester's arm. At the Spanish teacher's protesting look she insisted. "You're not in any physical danger, and it's probably best that we talk about this when we're all a little calmer. But please, Harry, get some sleep, okay? Don't worry about Remus, just look after yourself."

"I look after him," Remus corrected her, apparently back in the right time. "I'm his guardian."

"Yeah," Mr Schuester muttered as Ms Pillsbury started to tug him towards the door. "You are."

Harry just shut his eyes and stood in the centre of the room, tears pouring down his face and sobs catching in his throat. He heard Remus shift behind him, and then the sound of the TV turning up. After a moment, Remus was muttering.

"Harry, I think we should get a food processor. What's a food processor?"

Harry's resolve crumpled, and he just breathed out, "I don't know, Remus. Do what you want. I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Harry."

He dragged his feet the whole way upstairs, barely able to make it to his room before collapsing onto his bed. He jumped a little when something landed on his knee, but a glance through one slitted eyelid revealed the owl Remus had mentioned earlier resting on his knee cap. It was Pharaoh, Hermione's owl, and the only one of their birds to survive the war. Both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon died during the Siege of Hogwarts when the Owlery was set alight, and Harry still felt a little pang of sorrow when he thought about his beloved pet.

"Hey, Pharaoh," Harry held out his hand to be nipped, smiling weakly when Pharaoh hooted in greeting, batted the wizard's palm with his head, and held out its leg so Harry could unhook the letter. The teenager carefully detached the precious cargo, hauling himself upright to get the bird a treat. As the owl helped himself to the water beside Harry's bed, the wizard opened the letter and began to read.

_Harry,_

_Sorry we haven't been able to call for a while, we're insanely busy here. This is just Hermione writing; Ron's fallen asleep in the chair next to me. To be honest, I damn near joined him. If I hadn't drunk my body weight in coffee in the last three hours I would have. I've been working my arse off trying to get these proposals written, but hopefully seeing something presented in their language of bureaucratic-bullshit will prompt the Ministers to change the anti-werewolf legislation. And I'm still working on getting Cultural Studies implemented as a course at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall is eager, but the Board of Directors doesn't understand why their children should learn about Goblin etiquette or Centaur culture. I'm sure you can imagine how little sleep I'm getting right now. I haven't even had time to text Puck! Tell him I'm sorry about that, would you?_

_Ron's still training 15 hours a day, seven days a week. His exams to reach the next stage of training are in less than a month, so his stress levels are through the roof. Two days ago he shouted at me for using the last of the milk, then spent twenty minutes crying because his socks didn't match. I don't think he's worn socks that matched in his life._

_I'm glad things with Kurt are going well, and with Glee club. I'd love to be able to come to your Regionals performance, but I just don't see either of us having enough time. Can you get a recording of it? If you can, we promise to keep it away from Fred and George._

_Lots of love,_  
_Hermione and Ron._

_PS: Harry, this is Ron. Hermione woke me up before she sent it. Just wanted to add my 'sorry' for being so absent lately. This training is killer! Why do I want to be an Unspeakable again? Bloody mental, I tell you. But just call if you need us, yeah? We always have time for you._

_Hermione again. He's right, Harry. We've always got time if you need to talk, no matter how busy we are, okay? Just like you would do for us._

Harry's eyes were a little damp as he lowered the letter. His friend's warm voices echoed in his head as loudly as if they were sitting next to him. He carefully put the letter in the bundle he kept in his desk drawer, grabbing a bit of parchment and a self-inking quill to write back.

For a moment, he thought about telling them. Telling them how out-of-control Remus was, how his Calming Draughts weren't working anymore, how he was anxious all the time. He thought about telling them about the nightmares, the way he woke up feeling as though he'd never slept, about the way his magic had been behaving oddly for weeks. He knew they'd be over in a heartbeat, dropping work and training and commitments to make sure he was all right. He'd do the same for them, of course, but...

_Hermione's stressed and overworked, and Ron wants to succeed in his training so much. I can handle this. They don't need to know._

He picked up his quill,

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_Everything is fine here. Kurt loved his present, and rehearsals are going well..._

Harry kept the letter short and sweet, praying that neither of them noticed how sloppy his handwriting was; he just couldn't make his hand stop shaking. When he was done, Pharaoh was asleep on the end of his bed._ I'm with you, Pharaoh. _The wizard left the letter in its envelope to be sent the next day, before collapsing onto his bed. He half heartedly kicked off his shoes and rolled over so his face was in the pillow. It wasn't yet noon, but he fell straight into a fitful sleep.

_His Uncle is screaming at him, the words reverberating in his ears and his body. He's small, so small, barely more than a baby but his uncle just won't stop screaming.** Murderer, monster, dangerous...** it won't stop. There's light pouring out of his fingertips and it's tearing his uncle apart. He wants to stop, doesn't want to hurt him, doesn't want to be a murderer but he can't and his uncle is falling to pieces. He wants to run as the house burns down around him, and it's just so loud he can feel it in his bones but he can't, he can only stay and watch and hurt-_

_The light is fading. The fire is dying out and he feels warmth, not heat, flickering against his arms. A faceless figure with an impression of blue-green eyes is wrapping him in soft warmth, pressing a healing touch to his forehead. Words like a song pour into his ears, senseless in his state but soothing all the same, "It's okay, Harry, you're okay. Just sleep, all right? I'll talk to you tomorrow." The figure is leaving, but it's okay. He left his warmth behind and the house isn't burning anymore. Harry can see the sun and he drifts off into soothing white._

When Harry wakes the next morning there is a blanket over him, and his shoes are by his bed. There's a little note on purple paper next to his head, and Kurt's familiar neat handwriting on it.

'Good morning, handsome,' it read. 'I couldn't get a straight answer out of Mr Schue, so I came by to see you. You were sleeping, though, so I just got Remus out of your bathroom (he was cleaning the mirror) and left. You looked like you were having a bad dream - I hope you slept okay after that! Don't push yourself to come to school today if you don't want to, I'll get all your homework. The stuff from yesterday is on your desk. Text me when you wake up! ~Kurt'

Harry smiled slowly, the stinging in his eyes and the dehydration headache seeming less important than latching on to the warmth blossoming in his chest. He clutched the blanket to him for a moment, leaning back against his pillows and taking a deep breath. There was light streaming through the open curtains, so Harry dragged himself upright and over to his desk. He grabbed his phone with a clumsy hand, sighing in relief when he saw that he wasn't running late._ I guess my body clock has synced to the alarm time. Maybe I don't need to buy another clock then? I'll probably only break it too._

Harry forced himself into action, shooting off a quick, "Good morning!" text to Kurt before dragging himself to the bathroom. He showered quickly with his eyes shut, the hot water soothing muscles that he hadn't stretched out yesterday, and he groaned gratefully when the muscle-relaxant potion Hermione had added to his body wash eased his aching. By the time he'd gotten out of the shower and towel dried his hair, Kurt had responded to his text with a cheerful, "Good morning to you, Mr Potter! Are you going to be at school today? :)"

"Sure am. I feel much better. Thank you for tucking me in last night. It helped," Harry texted back, blushing a little when he remembered that he still hadn't dressed_. Naked texting feels... awkward, somehow. Time to dress._

He had managed to get on a pair of grey skinny jeans Kurt had all but ordered he buy by the time his boyfriend texted back. He idly reached for a random sweater as he read the message, grinning a little as he did.

"Anytime, sweetie. Don't forget to accessorise! See you later Xx."

Harry laughed a little and dropped his phone on his bed. His grin stayed on his face as he tugged out the navy blue sweater his hand had landed on, pulling it over his still damp hair and smoothing it down._ At least it's comfortable. _The wizard hummed to himself as he thought about seeing Kurt, meeting the boy in the parking lot or at his locker, taking his hand and walking down the corridors... the smile slipped off his face when a troubling thought occurred to him. _Azimio. Everyone is going to know what happened - what I did to Azimio. Fuck, I hope they just assume he's a wimp and I'm not a psychopath. Will Artie still be freaked out? Surely he'll have gotten over it... but he did look frightened. Of me, no less._ Harry frowned down at his mostly untouched box of accessories, eventually grabbing a smart leather belt in the same sort of colour as his sweater with a Union Jack buckle, and a grey and blue scarf._ There. Accessorised. At least Kurt won't be mad at me today. Even if everyone else is._

Harry rushed through a handful of homework assignments, leaving any he didn't need to have completed that day, before heading down the stairs with his bag on his back. He thought Remus would likely be in bed, but a few noises from the kitchen made him rethink his stance. He wandered over with a sigh. _Please just let me get through one morning without playing parent._

Remus was humming under his breath, an empty mug clutched between his hands and an old newspaper open in front of him. There was a pyramid of empty vials on the kitchen bench, and the teenager couldn't help but sigh.

"Good morning, Remus," he muttered as he walked across the kitchen to the refrigerator.

"G'morning, Harry," Remus slurred, smiling vaguely in his direction. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry scowled at the almost empty fridge, willing something edible to appear_. Unless I want to make dinner for breakfast, I might be out of luck._ _Why do we have six chickens but no milk? Orange juice it is._"Did you get any sleep?"

There was a long pause, before Remus tentatively asked, "...it's morning?"

"Yes, Remus, it's morning," Harry rested his head against the door of the fridge for a moment, orange juice in hand. _Didn't he just wish me good morning?_"You didn't sleep, then?"

"I guess not," Remus muttered. Harry shut the fridge door with a foot and turned, already opening the orange juice bottle. He damn near dropped it when he noticed a large pool of drying blood on the floor to his right.

"Uh, Remus?" he eyed it nervously, noting the pieces of broken glass scattered through the puddle, before carefully stepping around it to walk over to his guardian. "Why is the kitchen covered in blood?"

"Hmm?" Remus hummed idly, peering into the bottom of his mug as though searching for more tea. Harry looked him over carefully, finally spotting blood around the cuff of Remus's pants, and a few drops of blood on the ground.

"Remus, you stepped in broken glass, your foot is cut," Harry shook his head, more exasperated than worried, and dragged Remus's chair away from the kitchen table so he could reach his foot. The teenager crouched in front of his guardian and raised the bleeding foot so he could see. There was a deep gash to the sole of his foot, a little glint of glass still peeking out the edge, but it had mostly stopped bleeding. Harry shut his eyes for a moment.

"I'm going to run upstairs and get a salve," he carefully put Remus's foot down, shooting the man a firm look. "Do not wander off, you hear me? There is still glass in there."

"Okay," Remus agreed, slurring but cheerful, and Harry clambered to his feet. He took the stairs two at a time, not trusting Remus to stay put, and headed for the bathroom. He could heal a little cut with magic quite easily, but removing the glass would me more delicate a process._ Not to mention disinfecting it. God knows how long he's been walking around on an open wound. _The teenager grabbed a disinfectant balm from the bathroom cupboard, as well as a Pain Relieving Potion and some tweezers, before hurrying back downstairs. To his unsurprised exasperation, Remus was no longer sitting at the table. Instead, a little trickle of blood lead out of the kitchen and down the hall, towards the living room. Harry found his guardian struggling to untangle the lead of the vacuum cleaner from around a lamp.

"Remus, sit down," he rolled his eyes, moving all the equipment into one hand so he could tug Remus away with the other. The werewolf made a protesting noise as he was dragged to the couch and forced to sit, struggling as Harry pinned him there with one little hand.

"I need to vacuum," he insisted, fighting his ward's insistent movements. Harry felt a blood vessel in his head twitch.

"You've got a cut on your foot, Remus. Would you let me heal it? Then you can clean the blood off the carpet and vacuum to your heart's content," the teenager assured the man, rolling his eyes as Remus blinked in surprise and looked down at his foot.

"Oh. I have a cut," Remus thought that fact over for a few minutes while Harry picked up the injured foot and reached for the disinfectant balm. "Can you heal that?"

"No problem, just sit still for a minute," Harry squinted as he rubbed the soothing ointment onto Remus's still bleeding foot. He pulled the glass out with the tweezers, scanned the cut for deeper injuries, and healed it with a wave of his wand. It took less than two minutes, but by the end of it Remus was asleep against the side of the couch, snoring a little and drooling onto the seat. Harry just sighed and tried to spell away the last of the blood. The first time, nothing happened.

Harry frowned. _That's... not right._

"Scourgify," he tried again, louder this time. The blood slowly disbursed, leaving the area clean, but the wizard was still uneasy. _My magic has been a little unstable recently, but it hasn't just not worked before. This isn't right._

A glance over the still sleeping Remus's shoulder showed Harry that he was running late, so he pushed the thought aside to deal with later. Instead, he just arranged Remus so he wouldn't hurt his neck, slipped his wand back into its holster, and rushed back to the kitchen to grab his bag. It wasn't until he was halfway to school that he realised he'd left the orange juice out.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Next chapter, and things aren't improving for Harry. This is where Gleeks begin to mess up a bit, so keep an open mind and I'm sorry if I'm offending your favourite character. Just remember that I love all the Glee characters and I'm just trying to be realistic; they're only kids, after all. Some of them are going to be douchebags sometimes. ^-^

* * *

Harry could sense the difference from the moment he stepped out of his car. Usually most of the student would ignore him, and a few people would wave or nod to him as he made his way into the school, people he knew from classes or friends of people in Glee. He'd often run into a gleek as well, Kurt or Tina or Finn, and they'd greet one another with hugs and pats on the back. Today, the car park was suspiciously quiet. People who had never given him a second glance were staring at him and sharing whispers, and a girl from his Math class ducked her head when he tried to catch her eye.

_Well, fuck._

The wizard grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and kept his head down, smoothing his fringe over his face as he slipped past the quietly whispering crowd. He could hear little snippets of conversations as he made his way to the front door of the school and he forced himself not to cringe.

"-attacked the line backer out of no-where-"

"-I heard he hears voices and shit-"

"-total nut job, he's the one dating the gay kid-"

"-how can they let someone so dangerous go to school with normal kids?"

The last comment made him freeze and whip his head around to look for the last speaker. Every kid who had been watching him was suddenly very busy looking through their bags or cell phones, or engrossed in an overly loud conversation about the last football game. The wizard sighed and turned back around, dragging his feet a little as he finally walked into the school.

It was a similar scene inside, with stares pinning him from every side and whispers following him down the hall. The first glee kid he saw was Finn, towering above the heads of a group of cheerleaders. Harry smiled in relief and waved a little. His smile flickered when he got a very uncomfortable smile back, followed by Finn checking his left wrist and waving apologetically, hurrying in the other direction. Harry paused;_ he... wasn't wearing a watch._

Harry looked around the hallway. People were still staring at him, still whispering, still avoiding his eyes. In the reflection of a nearby classroom door he saw Artie wheel up behind him, notice him, and turn around, wheeling himself back down the corridor the way he'd come from. Hurt twisted up Harry's lungs, making his breath catch a little.

_Did he just run away from me?...figuratively speaking?_

The green-eyed boy jumped when he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder, and looked up with wide eyes.

"'Sup, little dude," Puck greeted him cheerfully, offering him a fist to bump. "You feeling better? Man, you takin' down Azimio is all over the school. People think you're, like, a schizo or something. It's fuckin' hilarious."

"Glad you're enjoying it," Harry's voice was low as he cast a nervous glance around the hallway where people were still staring. He tapped his fist against Puck's clumsily, still not used to the gesture, before nodding at a group of staring cheerleaders. "I notice you're not treating me like Jeffrey Dahmer Jr, though."

"What?" Puck snorted, wandering out of the middle of the hallway to rest against a wall. "Dude, no. Why the hell would I? You're my bro, you're not going to hurt me. Hell, I grabbed your shoulder just now and you didn't do anything, right? Azimio's just a tool. Ignore these losers, they just can't handle your badass-ness."

"Artie actually ran away a few minutes ago," Harry rubbing his forehead, waving a hand after a moment when he added, "Figuratively speaking, I mean."

Puck raised his eyebrows, "Seriously? Dude. That sucks."

Harry nodded, "So did Finn. Looked at his watch like he had somewhere to be and ran away."

Puck looked puzzled, "Finn wears a watch?"

"No, he doesn't. That's how I know he was avoiding me," Harry sighed, starting down the hallway towards his locker. "You're right, Puck, I'm not going to hurt my friends. Can you try to talk to Finn or Artie? I don't think they'll listen to me."

"Sure, little dude," Puck ruffled Harry's hair a little, laughing when it quickly turned into a bird's nest. "I'll try to find them now. See you in Lit."

"See you then," Harry smiled a little, running his fingers through his hair. "And Puck? Thanks."

"What are bros for?" Puck grinned and tapped his chest with a fist in what was obviously some sort of gesture Harry was meant to recognise. The wizard tried to imitate it as Puck backed away, just shrugging when it made the Mohawked boy laugh at him. _Americans are weird._

Kurt was standing at Harry's locker as the smaller boy approached. He was on his cell phone, chatting to whoever was on the other end of the line with a grin and a sparkle in his eye. His smile somehow widened when he caught sight of Harry, and the wizard just heard the last sentence of conversation before his boyfriend hung up, "I've got to go, Blaine. Talk to you later? Good luck on your test! Bye!"

Kurt slipped the cell phone down and into his pocket when Harry reached him, and Harry tried to shake off the unsettled feeling that had rested on him when he'd heard Blaine's name from his boyfriend's lips.

_When did they exchange phone numbers?_

"Hey, sweetie. You're looking better," Kurt brushed Harry's hair aside to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Harry surged up and caught Kurt's lips properly, kissing him solidly and sweetly before pulling away with a blush. Kurt's eyes were wide and his mouth had dropped open a little, but he sounded pleased when he managed to say, "I guess you're feeling better too."

"I am now," Harry smiled, letting go of Kurt's hand for long enough to open his locker and store some books inside. "I slept well after you dropped in. Thank you for getting Remus out of my bathroom. He probably would have tried to dust _me _after a while."

Kurt made a sympathetic noise and flicked some hair over Harry's ear, "How was he this morning?"

"Well, he was walking around with a piece of broken glass in his foot, bleeding everywhere, so probably not great," Harry rolled his eyes and slammed his locker door shut. Before Kurt react, he changed the subject. "That was Blaine on the phone? I didn't realise you had his number."

Kurt's face lit up a bit, "Yes! I found him on Facebook last night. He's actually listed as Blaine Warbler - all of the Warblers have Warbler as their surname, actually. It's kinda weird. But we chatted for a while, and we have so much in common! It's crazy, he's like my psychic twin or something. Even if he does use way too much hair gel. And wear too many cardigans."

"That's... that's nice," Harry nodded slowly, shifting uncomfortably as he became more and more uneasy with every word out of Kurt's mouth. "Did you ask Mr Schuester about the scrimmage idea yesterday?"

Kurt nodded eagerly as Harry linked their hands and started tugging him down the hall towards Spanish, "Yes, he loved it. He's going to get in contact with their artistic director today. Now we just have to work out what we're going to show them."

The conversation continued easily as they slipped into the Spanish classroom, nodding to Mr Schuester before walking to their seats. Harry tried to ignore the stares of his peers, and Kurt shot anyone who looked at them a fierce glare, but a few still managed to make Harry slip low in his seat when they muttered,

"-should have been expelled-"

"-already a freak, now a _dangerous-_"

"-probably likes hurting people-"

"Okay, everyone, pop quiz!" Mr Schuester started the class with a bark, shooting glares at the people who'd been whispering the loudest. The class groaned, but the teacher just shrugged. "It's that time of year, people. Get used to it."

Harry accepted the quiz with a quiet thank you when the teacher reached him, not looking the man in the eye. Knowing his teacher had seen how he was yesterday - had seen how _Remus_ was - was embarrassing, and he cringed when Mr Schuester cleared his throat and bent closer to him.

"Would you be able to stay after class for a minute, Harry?" he murmured, worry lacing his words. Harry's shoulders stiffened, but he nodded. _Better after class than now_. A nearby boy in a Letterman's jacket snorted as Mr Schuester walked back to the front of the room, muttering to his neighbour,

"Maybe he's finally going to get rid of the freak."

"No talking," the teacher snapped, fixing the jock with a surprisingly fierce glare. Kurt was shooting the jock a similar look, but smiled encouragingly at Harry when the smaller boy caught his eye. Harry smiled weakly back.

The pop quiz went quickly for Harry, Spanish coming easily to him after years of Latin, and before he knew it he was alone with Mr Schuester in the classroom. The teacher had let him keep sitting in his seat, opting to sit where Kurt usually did himself, and for a few moments there was quiet.

"I'm sure you know what I want to talk to you about," Mr Schuester eventually began, his voice gentle. Harry shut his eyes.

"I know it looks bad," he began in a low voice. "But I'm really okay. Remus is having a few problems right now, but it will pass."

_It has too_, he added mentally, finally opening his eyes to look pleadingly at his teacher. Mr Schuester's gaze was conflicted, worried, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Do you think," the teacher said carefully, looking around the room with forced casualness. "That Remus would mind if I came over this afternoon to talk about it? You could call him to warn him again, and I wouldn't rush inside. I just think it's important that I touch base with him about... things."

Harry froze, thinking of the broken glass and blood in the kitchen, of Remus more or less passed out on the couch, "Um, today might not be... a good time for that. Maybe tomorrow?"

Mr Schuester raised his eyebrows a little, "Is he... again?"

"More like still," Harry shrugged, dropping his gaze to his hands. He shifted so he was facing the teacher a little more and forced a little smile to his face. "He hasn't had a good few days. This is as bad as it's been. But it will get better. His body just needs to get used to his new dosage."

"Has his doctor confirmed that?" Mr Schuester asked, trying and failing to catch Harry's gaze. Harry winced involuntarily, and flushed a little when suspicion crossed his teacher's face. "He _has _cleared this new dosage with a doctor, right?"

"Not... not as such," Harry fidgeted under Mr Schuester's disapproving gaze. "You can't get our medication in America, and he only really trusts his doctors from back home, so..."

"Harry, self-medicating is a terrible idea," the teacher protested, shaking his head. "Between side effects and the risk of overdosing - please tell me you're talking _your _medication as the doctor directed."

Harry's slight hesitation answered the teacher's question for him. The teenager stared at his hands as Mr Schuester sighed, wishing he understood why he felt so guilty. His voice was small as he muttered, "I _need _to. The prescribed dose didn't even touch the anxiety after a while. And now I can't stop, I start going into withdrawal earlier and earlier... I don't know what else to do."

Harry found himself blinking back tears, and he hastily rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Mr Schuester sighed again, more gently this time, and Harry glanced up at him when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. The teacher's eyes were full of compassion, and the teenager had to look away. There was an uncomfortable pause before Mr Schuester tried again, "I really would be more comfortable if I could check on you this evening, Harry. Just to make sure you don't need any help caring for Remus."

Harry began to protest, but the teacher held up his hand, "I know that you can handle things with him, Harry, but you don't have to do it alone. Maybe you're right, maybe this is just a temporary situation. I mean, after Kurt's dad had his heart attack, Kurt took care of him for a while."

"Right," Harry agreed quickly, nodding emphatically. "It's just for a while, I'm sure of it."

"Okay," Mr Schuester nodded. "So how about I come over this afternoon, just help around the house a bit? It would make me feel better, and it means you just have to worry about your school work."

Harry felt something well up in his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes again, but this time he didn't really understand why. Mr Schuester shifted across from him, and Harry forced out a little laugh, wiping his eyes on his sleeve again, "Sorry, it's just - weird. That anyone cares. Kind of makes me wish my teachers had been this vigilant in England."

Mr Schuester winced at Harry's plain words, and the wizard just shrugged. _Well, it's true enough. _The teacher patted Harry's shoulder and got to his feet, "Well, if that's agreed, how about I come over at about 3.30? That should give you enough time to warn Remus, right?"

"Sure," Harry got to his feet, grabbing his bag as the teacher made his way to the front of the classroom. "Could I get a note for Literature?"

"Of course, I've already written in out. I'm afraid it looks like you've missed out on quite a bit, I'm sorry about that," Mr Schuester handed Harry the note he'd need to get into class, smiling a little when Harry absentmindedly brushed his hair off his scarred. "Just let me know if it causes any problems with your teacher."

"Yeah, that's... unlikely," Harry smiled wryly, walking towards the door with Mr Schuester behind him.

"I'll see you later, Mr Schue. Thanks."

"No need to thank me, Harry. I'll see you then," the teacher waved him off, and the wizard could feel the man's eyes on him the whole way down the hallway.

Literature was an awkward affair. Every student went quiet when he walked into the room, conversations tapering off mid-word so the teenagers could stare at the scarred boy. Harry had left the note from Mr Schuester on the empty teacher's desk and shuffled back to his usual seat, trying to ignore the dark stares and whispers as he made his way up the back. Puck had greeted him with a loud, "Harry, my man," and a slap on the back, and Quinn had smiled and waved sweetly, shooting an icy glare at a whispering Cheerio moments later. Kurt had stood to hug his boyfriend hello, but Mercedes had glanced around nervously and smiled a fake smile. It became clear very quickly that she had, at least slightly, believed the rumours about him. Kurt kept shooting her annoyed glances, and Quinn seemed to be sticking close to Harry defensively, and Harry had just sunk low in his seat and tried not to cringe.

The day continued in that vein, with crowds parting to let him through and whispers providing a constant white noise where ever he went. It made him feel like he was back at Hogwarts in his second year, with whispers of, "Slytherin's heir," and "murderer," following him everywhere - though they were replaced by "dangerous" and "freak". His uncle's voice was loud amongst them, ringing in his memory over and over with every hiss of "freak" and every disgusted look. He was almost in tears when the bell rang for lunch, and he took a moment to gather his composure into his open locker.

_I'm not dangerous, I'm __**not**_, he tried to tell himself, forcing back the swell of hurt and fear in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against the spine of a book in his locker, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. _They just don't understand, they don't know. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be normal..._

Harry sighed and pulled away, closing his locker gently. He felt a flash of warning from behind him, in plenty of time to dodge the blow that was coming, but somehow he couldn't be bothered making the effort to move away. A meaty hand shoved him against his locker, and he hit it with a loud crash.

"Turn and look at me, fag," growled a familiar voice. Harry turned slowly, running his fingers through his hair to get it off his face before looking up at the football player with blank eyes. Karofsky glared down at him hatefully, a handful of jocks glowering behind him, cracking their knuckles and trying to look threatening. Through the sudden thrill of awareness, readiness, and exhaustion, Harry felt something like amusement._ Aw, they think they're tough! How cute. I should introduce them to the Aurors I led._

Karofsky shoved him again, and Harry let himself hit the locker with a suppressed sigh._ I'm too tired for this. _His lack of reaction seemed to fuel Karofsky's anger all the more, and the taller boy spat out, "We don't fucking like you, Potter. You run around with your faggot boyfriend acting like you're actually normal or something, you act like we're scum, and now you've gone and hurt my buddy Az. Enough is enough. You're going down."

Harry stared up at him dully, finally responding in a flat, weary voice, "Okay, here's the thing; I _am _normal, you _are_ scum, and didn't 'Az' want that to be kept a secret? He mightn't be pleased that you're spreading it around."

Karofsky swung a fist towards Harry's stomach, and the boy sidestepped it with ease. The jock shouted as his fist hit the cold metal of the locker, and Harry winced sympathetically. A glance around the hallway showed that a dozen students were watching with bated breath, and his stomach dropped.

_Wait, shit, this is going to be an actual fight, not just one on one. I could fight them off, but... I can't fight them off with so many people around. I'll look like... like a soldier. And it won't do much to convince people that I'm not dangerous, either. Everyone is on alert, I'm going to be under so much scrutiny... what do I do?_

Harry dove to the side as a football player lunged for him and, after a split-second decision, he tried to flee down the hallway. A hand grasping his elbow stopped him, and he found himself being yanked back. The wizard's first instinct was to go for his wand, break the jock's grip (and his arm) and get the situation under control... but he couldn't. _Fuck, I can't risk someone noticing what's up, or freaking out and actually hurting one of them. It's better I get hurt than they do. I have to do this as a normal teenager. I guess that means I should..._

Harry shoved the nearest jock into another one to give himself a moment, and took a deep breath. With every cell in his body protesting, he shut his battle-magic off.

His battle-magic dulled his senses to allow him to focus. It shut off every irrelevant noise, sight, sensation, cutting off his sense of smell and taste almost completely. It gave him the ability to function in situations where he would otherwise shut down. When he shut it off, he knew he would lose his edge.

He didn't expect this.

_Noise_. Overwhelming, _constant _noise as the jocks jeered and snarled, bystanders cried out and screamed and shouted, giving him so much stimulation he didn't know where every noise was coming from -

"-faggot-"

"-where are the-"

"-hurting him! He's just-"

"-alone! Please leave him alone-"

"-fucking pathetic-"

_Sights_, of faces twisted in hate, girls crying in the background, bloody knuckles swinging at him, leaving smears of red on the floor and on the jocks as he dodged and shoved and just tried to get them away, all strategy gone -

_Pain_, not much, just through his chest and burning through his stomach as he tried not to be sick. He couldn't catch enough breath and his lungs were on fire as he just tried to breathe-

Sweat and blood left an acrid odour in his nostrils, a taste in his mouth. The jocks were dripping with both as they tried to land blows on him but only struck one another, and the blood bounced off of their skin and onto his, making nausea roll through him. It was too much, too _much_, the screaming and the blood and the sweat, the feeling of his chest burning. Suddenly he didn't have to dodge anymore, no more blows were coming and the crowd was parting, but still he backed away until he hit a locker, sliding down until he was curled up in a ball and just shaking and choking and -

"Harry."

A voice cut through the sudden silence of the hallway, soothing and sweet. Pale hands slipped into his line of vision, covering his own shaking fists. The skin of those hands was soft and smooth, caressing his sweaty arms gently. He could smell a familiar cologne, light and delicate, over the blood and sweat which covered him. The crawling in Harry's skin lessened as the world dulled itself to normal, and he realised the last shaky moans he could hear were his own.

"Sweetheart, it's okay, you're alright," Kurt crooned, leaning forward to brush Harry's sweat damp hair out of his eyes. Harry's breath caught in his throat again, choking him, and Kurt clasped his hands on Harry's arms. "Just breathe slowly, Harry. Slowly. That's it. You're okay, Harry, everything is fine. Mr Schuester and Coach Beiste are over there dealing with the jocks. You're not in any trouble. You're not hurt. You didn't hurt anyone. Everything is fine."

Harry's breathing slowed down, his anxiety attack and his naturally enhanced awareness finally no longer fighting for control of him. He raised a shaking hand to his face to wipe off the tears and sweat and drool, looking up at Kurt through foggy and stained glasses to stare into his boyfriend's worried eyes. He glanced to the side, seeing the group of bleeding, sweaty jocks clumped together in front of Coach Beiste, the woman beginning to hiss out a lecture, and Harry could see Santana and Brittany talking to Mr Schuester nearby. Students were giving the scene a wide berth, but he could see the shock and fascination in their eyes from the edge of the space.

Mr Schuester seemed to notice Harry's breathing quieten and turned, briefly patting the teary Brittany on the shoulder before making his way over. Coach Beiste nodded to him when he caught her eye, and she started to march the jocks away. The glee instructor walked over slowly, eyeing Harry carefully before crouching down next to Kurt.

"I'm okay," Harry rasped before he could speak, looking down at his hands. "I'm not hurt, I don't think - I don't think any of them managed to actually hit me."

He winced at the weakness in his voice, sinking back against the cold locker in exhaustion, his magic flickering and buzzing uncomfortably under his skin. _That went well. If there's one thing that will reassure my peers that I'm a normal, stable teenager, it's having a screaming, hysterical fit while dodging every blow flung at me by half the football team. I am a paragon of normalcy._

Mr Schuester gently put a hand on Harry's shoulder, smiling sympathetically when Harry's gave a deep sigh, "Brittany and Santana saw most of what happened - Santana was the one to get me - but I'd like to hear it in your words if you're up to it."

"There's not much to say," Harry shrugged a little, still looking at his hands. He turned one palm over to take Kurt's soft hand in his own sweaty one, and went on with another sigh. "I don't really remember - I know Karofsky pushed me into my locker. They wanted a fight. I didn't. I tried to walk away but they attacked me. I panicked. I can't really remember much after then. I didn't hurt anyone, did I? I don't remember hitting anyone but they were bleeding..."

"According to everyone I heard on the way through, you didn't throw a single punch," Kurt shook his head, tapping Harry's palm with one long finger. "And you kept dodging the jocks, so they mostly ended up hitting one another. That's where the blood came from. You made them beat themselves up."

"Seriously?" Harry raised an eyebrow, finally looking up between his teacher and his boyfriend. Mr Schuester and Kurt both nodded, and he felt a little twitch at the corner of his mouth. "...does it make me a bad person that I find that kinda funny?"

Kurt let out a startled giggle, slapping a hand over his mouth as Mr Schuester grinned reluctantly. The teacher rubbed his forehead, "Don't tell anyone I said so, but it does seem like poetic justice. Five big guys on one not-so-big-"

"Small," Harry and Kurt both corrected, their voices overlapping. Harry's voice was wry and Kurt's was matter-of-fact, but they both just shrugged at Mr Schuester's look. Mr Schuester's lips twitched as he continued.

"On one s-small guy, but they only manage to hurt themselves... it _is_, uh. Kind of funny. But anyway," Kurt snickered at Mr Schuester's guilty smile. "Your story matched what everyone was saying, Harry, so you're in no trouble. Principal Figgans will want to know what you want to do about the boys who attacked you, but he'll want Remus to be here too, so I'm sure we can do that another day."

"Thanks," Harry forced himself to smile at the teacher, shooting Kurt a similar look right afterwards. "Is lunch over? What time is it?"

"Lunch ended about a minute ago," the teacher stood, looking at the crowd finally disbursing down the corridor. Harry nodded and stood, offering Kurt a hand up.

"I'd better get my books and go to class, then," Harry sighed internally, realising with a wince that he hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. _Whoops_. Mr Schuester shot him a worried look, and Kurt squeezed his hand.

"Are you sure, Harry? You're still a little shaky. Do you need to go to the nurse?" Mr Schuester reached for his pocket, pulling out a hall pass. Harry started to shake his head, then reconsidered.

"I don't need to go to the nurse, but can I go to the locker room and shower? I'm covered in other people's blood," he looked down at himself with a grimace, and shot Kurt an apologetic look when the taller boy blanched. Mr Schuester's lips pursed, but he nodded.

"That's reasonable, but maybe..." the teacher trailed off, looking conflicted. "Look, the jocks clearly have issues with you. It might not be so safe for you to be in the locker room on your own."

"Oh. Didn't think of that," Harry looked down at his blood stained clothing mournfully, and Kurt sniffed.

"That is not sanitary," the boy wrinkled his nose. "It's a shame. That outfit was super cute."

The countertenor looked up at the teacher imploringly, "There has to be something you can do. He can't walk around like this, it's a health hazard!"

"I know, I know," Mr Schuester ran a hand through his hair. He looked around the rapidly clearing hallway and sighed. "Kurt, you'd better get to class. Harry will catch up with you later, okay?"

Kurt looked ready to protest, so Harry squeezed his hand and pulled away, "It's okay, love. Me and Mr Schue will work something out. Just go to class. Be careful, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt agreed, still frowning. "If you need a change of clothes, you know the combination of my locker. There's some in there."

"Thanks, love," Kurt wandered away, still shooting Harry worried frowns, and Harry watched him with a forced smile until he disappeared down the corridor, before sighing a little and turning back to his teacher. "Don't you have a class to get to as well?"

"I asked Shannon - Coach Beiste - to put a note on the door. That class now has a study period instead for today. Tell you what, how about I walk you to the locker room and just wait for you to finish? If that won't make you uncomfortable, I mean," Mr Schuester rushed out the last sentence, his face flushing pink. He tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward and forced in the empty hallway. Harry raised an eyebrow at him._ Why would that make me uncomfortable? Unless he's planning on jumping in the shower with me._Mr Schuester seemed to take his reaction for a different one and hurried to explain himself. "I'm just not comfortable with the idea of you being alone in the locker room today, Harry. Not until we know that the jocks won't try anything."

For a moment Harry contemplated telling the teacher he didn't need a bodyguard, that the jocks likely wouldn't try anything yet, that his concern was unnecessary - _contrary to previous appearances, I am actually capable of fighting them off myself _- but then he looked at the worry in Mr Schuester's eyes and relented, "Yeah, I get it. Good idea."

"Okay," the teacher nodded and started leading Harry down the hall. They walked in awkward silence for a while, Mr Schuester glancing around nervously and Harry staring at his feet, before the teacher sighed and spoke again. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you, Harry."

Harry looked up at the teacher blankly, but looked away at the sight of the compassion in the man's eyes. Mr Schuester persisted, "Really. I know how much you wanted to just have a quiet life after living in a war zone, but everything has been so intense since you got here... it isn't fair."

"Life rarely is," Harry murmured dryly, shooting the teacher a wry smile. "You do get used to it after a while."

Mr Schuester winced at the plain words, "I'm sure you do. It doesn't mean it sucks any less, though."

Harry barked out a surprised laugh at the teacher's bluntness, pushing open the door to the locker room with one hand, "No, no it doesn't."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Chapter 5, actually on time!... despite the fact that I fell asleep before dinner and only just woke up. Whoops! Here we go. By the way, I know my chapter breaks are a little random sometimes, but I don't write in 'chapters'. I just write huge random blocks at different times and then have to find somewhere to put the chapter break later *shrug* Sorry if it seems inorganic, but I do try to place them as logically as possible.

* * *

A small group of boys Harry didn't know were playing cards on the bench in the centre of the locker room, and hurried to move them when Mr Schuester walked in. The teacher shot them a disappointed look and sighed, "I suppose you didn't hear the lunch bell ring, right?"

"No, sir. Did that - uh, did it ring a-already? We didn't hear it," one of the boys stammered, exchanging a guilty glance with one of his friends. As Harry wandered over to his locker to grab his soap bag, Mr Schuester nodded sagely.

"It did. You'd better get to class before you're even later."

"Yeah, Mr Schuester. Thanks," another boy muttered, and the boys scurried out of the room. Mr Schuester shook his head and looked over to Harry with a wry smile of his own.

"You know, it's somehow comforting to know that whatever happens, some things just don't change," the teacher commented, sitting on the bench in the centre. "Grass is green, rain is wet, and teenagers try to cut class."

"Considering how much class I've been missing in the past few days I feel I can't talk," Harry quipped, opening Kurt's locker with one hand and grabbing a clean long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans with the hand he had wiped on his own. "Though mine has been less 'cutting' and more 'fleeing-before-I- pass-out'."

Mr Schuester made a sympathetic noise, "The teacher's are aware of... your attacks. It won't be held against you."

"I hope not," Harry murmured. He looked at the bag and clothes in his hand and furrowed his brow. "Mr Schue? Would you mind holding these clothes until after my shower? I don't want to leave them on the bench."

At the teacher's raised eyebrow he shrugged, "They're Kurt's. He would probably kill me if I left whatever these are - Calvin Klein, I think - on a dirty bench in the boy's locker room."

"Sure," Mr Schuester agreed with an easy smile, taking the clothes out of Harry's arms and resting them on his lap. Harry smiled back a little before grabbing his towel and soap and disappearing into a shower stall.

He pulled off his bloodstained clothes with a sigh, leaving them hanging over the wall of the stall. He kicked his shoes outside and dumped his belt and scarf on top of them, before turning the water on hot. He took a moment to stand under the hot water gratefully, feeling some residual anxious energy draining away with the sweat and blood. After a moment Harry grabbed his soap and scrubbed himself down, very aware of Mr Schuester waiting for him.

_He really wants to protect me_, a small part of Harry marvelled, and for a moment the wizard felt a little trickle of warmth blossom in his chest. He forced it away; it wasn't worth how disappointed he'd be when the teacher lost interest._ I'm just another student. He's just doing his job. Get over it, Potter._

As soon as the last of the sweat was gone from his skin he turned the water off. Harry did his best to dry himself off in the shower stall, and pulled his boxers back on in there as well. While five years in a dormitory had pretty much relieved him of any modesty, he figured he might as well try and no make the teacher any more uncomfortable than he already was. Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed his clothes, shoving them into the plastic bag with his soap. _That can be dealt with later._

Mr Schuester was staring idly at the clock when Harry wandered out, and the man turned to smile at the wizard. The smile froze on his face when he caught sight of Harry's scarred torso, and Harry blushed.

"Yeah, the scars aren't only facial," he mumbled, dropping the plastic bag on the bench with his shoes. "It's not pretty."

"That - must have been painful," Mr Schuester raised his eyes from the series of gouges just below Harry's ribs. The wizard shrugged.

"Yeah. Turns out shrapnel is pointy. And melty," Harry ran a finger along a shiny burn scar on his left side. His mind started drifting back to how he got the scars - _just keep running, screams, fire, pain_- and he forced his mind back to the present. Mr Schuester's eyes were full of sympathy, and the boy ducked his head. "Can I have the clothes now?"

"Oh! Right," Mr Schuester handed Harry the shirt and jeans, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I had forgotten I was holding them."

"S'okay," Harry muttered, turning to walk back out of the way. Mr Schuester's sharp intake of breath when he could see Harry's back made the teenager wince. _Don't ask don't ask don't ask don't ask..._

Harry kept up his mental mantra as he walked behind the teacher to tug the too-long jeans over his hips (having to keep them up with his belt and fold them at the hem several times to keep them up) and at first it seemed to work. Mr Schuester remained quiet until after Harry had pulled the shirt over his wet hair and come to sit next to him to pull on his boots. It was only then he brought it up.

"Harry," he began delicately, looking at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "Some of the scars on your back..."

"Hmm," Harry made a non-committal noise, hoping that if he didn't react the teacher would drop it. He wasn't that lucky.

"They... looked more than two years old," the teacher was watching Harry carefully for a reaction, but continued when Harry ignored him in favour of pulling on his other boot. "They looked old - _really _old. And..."

"And what, Mr Schuester?" Harry looked up at the teacher with defiant eyes. His face felt flushed at the understanding in Mr Schuester's eyes, but he forced himself to hold his gaze, willing the teacher to let it go. The teacher didn't back down.

"They look a bit like - whipping scars," Mr Schuester finished haltingly. Harry pinched his lips as he tied his shoelace, glaring at the leather of the boot.

_Why can't he let anything go?_

"They are," he answered flatly, getting to his feet. At the teacher's sharp intake of breath Harry turned to face him, his face stony. "It was a long time ago. It's not relevant now."

There was a pause, and Harry stalked over to put his plastic bag in his locker. Mr Schuester's voice was carefully neutral, "You said that yesterday. Or - you said that Remus never f-flogged you for doing the wrong thing. I didn't realise you meant..."

He trailed off, and Harry didn't elaborate. After a moment the teacher concluded, "Your previous guardians, then?"

"Yes," Harry answered simply, closing his locker with a slam. Mr Schuester wasn't deterred.

"The ones Remus got you away from."

"That's them," Harry agreed, turning back to the teacher. Mr Schuester nodded a little, understanding in his eyes.

"No one did anything?" the teacher murmured, only half asking. Harry looked at him frankly.

"No one," he nodded, lips twisting into a bitter smile. "Not teachers, neighbours... and they knew. They all knew. They just didn't care."

"I'm so sorry," Mr Schuester's voice broke a little, and Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he muttered, pushing his wet hair behind his ears so it didn't blind him. "It's over. I never have to see them again. I have - I have Remus now. It's not perfect, but it's better."

"Just because it's better doesn't mean it's good," Mr Schuester shook his head. Harry snorted.

"No kidding. But I'm 17 - there's not much point in holding out for a perfect guardian now," Harry shrugged sullenly, stalking back across the room to stand in front of his teacher. "I'm showered and blood-free, Mr Schuester. May I go to class now?"

"Sure, Harry, I'll walk you," Mr Schuester stood up, ignoring the boy's frustrated sigh. "What class do you have?"

"Legal Studies," Harry's lips thinned as he thought of his only friend in that class - Artie. "Goodie."

"You don't enjoy it?" Mr Schuester asked him curiously as they left the locker room, Harry leading towards his locker. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Usually it's fine. It's just - Artie's kind of nervous around me since I accidentally hurt Azimio yesterday," the wizard flushed red to his ears as he mumbled towards his shoes. "Finn, too. And Mercedes. And most of the school."

"What actually happened there?" Mr Schuester frowned, looking down at Harry cautiously. Harry ran a hand over his still wet hair.

"He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around to face him. I was still on edge from my panic attack and I just - reacted. I twisted his arm. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"No, I understand," the teacher relaxed, gently placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "That was an accident. I'm sure your friends aren't actually nervous around you. Maybe they just don't know what to say now that they've realised how... anxious... you are."

"How crazy I am, you mean," Harry rolled his eyes, but started when the teacher's hand tightened on his shoulder and the man fixed him with a stern look, forcing both of them to stop in the hall.

"You're not crazy, Harry," Mr Schuester urged, his expression deadly serious and firm. "You've been traumatised and hurt but you're not crazy. You're a lot more together than most people your age would be if they'd been through what you have."

_You don't know the half of it _Harry thought bitterly, then cringed when the teacher started. "Oooh, did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah, you did," Mr Schuester looked at Harry with sad eyes. Harry just pulled away and started back down the hall to his locker. He tried to ignore the man quietly tailing him as he reached his locker, opening it more roughly than necessary and snatching his books up. When he turned and nearly ran into Mr Schuester, he couldn't help but snap.

"You know, you never did this for Kurt," the wizard ducked around the teacher and stalked towards his Legal Studies class, his frown deepening when the teacher didn't even have to walk faster to keep up._ Stupid short legs._"This following me around to make sure I'm safe - you didn't do it for him."

"Kurt wasn't getting physically attacked," Mr Schuester counted gently. Harry shot him a droll look over his shoulder.

"Because being shoved into lockers and thrown into dumpsters isn't physical?" Harry snorted. Mr Schuester was silent behind him.

"...I didn't know about that," he eventually said, his voice tired. "I mean, I'd heard that he had been thrown in a dumpster, but I thought it was an isolated incident."

Harry paused at shot him a disbelieving look, "Seriously? It was happening everyday at one point. I made them stop, but before then it was absolutely constant. And he still gets shoved into lockers whenever I'm not around - his back and shoulders are covered in bruises all the time."

"I didn't realise," Mr Schuester's expression was grim, and Harry winced a little.

"Maybe I wasn't meant to tell you," he glanced around guiltily, half expecting Kurt to jump from around the corner and smack him around the head. "He doesn't like people fussing over him like that."

"I know," Mr Schuester's voice was gentle. "And I know you don't either. But you told me that anyway, because you're worried about someone you care about."

"Yeah," Harry looked at the teacher suspiciously. Mr Schuester's response was careful.

"Harry, that's all we're trying to do for you. Just like Kurt with his bullies, you want to deal with everything yourself. But you don't have to, Harry. Just like I want to help make this school safe for Kurt, I want to help make your home safe for you."

"It's not the same," Harry muttered, looking away from Mr Schuester's earnest face. "Kurt is... _Kurt_."

"Yeah, he is," the teacher laughed a little, not unkindly. "And you're Harry. And you matter just as much as Kurt does."

"I don't," Harry shook his head. _Kurt's one of his kids, one of the first five, I can't matter as much as him._

"You do," Mr Schue insisted, an edge of pain behind the sincerity in his eyes. Harry dropped his gaze to his feet.

"I shouldn't," he murmured._ Kurt's not like me. He's a good person, and honest person. Everything about me is a lie, a lie to protect Britain's favourite murderer._

"Harry, you should and you _do_," Harry's eyes went wide as he found himself folded in his teacher's arms. Mr Schuester hugged the boy to his chest, urging words over his head. "You matter so much to the club, and to me; just like all of you kids do."

Mr Schuester pulled away, holding Harry's shoulders at arms' length. Harry stared up at him with wide eyes; he couldn't remember the last time Remus had hugged him like that. The teacher continued, a hint of desperation behind his calm words, "Harry, please. Don't ever think you don't matter to people. Even if some of your friends are being kind of awkward right now, you still have people in your corner."

Harry looked away. _What the hell do I say to that?_There was a few moments of silence before Harry muttered, "My classroom is right there."

Mr Schuester seemed to deflate a little, and he nodded, "Right. Enjoy class, Harry. I'll see you this afternoon at 3.30 at your house, right?"

"Right," Harry sighed. _I had hoped he'd forgotten about that._ He slipped into the class with his note in hand, and tried to ignore the blatant stares of the people around him. Even the teacher looked wary when he took the note off of Harry, and when Harry took his spot next to Artie the wheelchair-bound boy became fascinated with his textbook. There wasn't much class left; just a brief discussion on a chapter that Harry didn't remember reading. Artie kept his eyes down the whole time, avoiding Harry's gaze as though the wizard were a basilisk. When the bell rang Artie shoved all his books into his bag and tried to roll out the door. Harry grabbed onto his wrist gently.

"Artie, please wait," he begged softly, glancing around nervously as people stopped to watch. Artie finally looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Y-yeah, Harry?" he stammered, forcing a smile. "What's - uh, what's up?"

"What's up is that you're afraid of me," Harry spoke in a low voice. "Artie, I'm not going to hurt you. Why are you being like this?"

"Maybe because you took out a linebacker without looking?" Artie snapped back, his eyes widening in time with Harry's. He dropped his hands to his wheels, looking for all the world like he'd like to roll away. "And you fought like ten footballers and _won_. You're kind of - look, you're a nice guy, Harry, you're my friend, but... you just seem a little..."

"Dangerous?" Harry suggested, his mouth thinning to a firm line and his hands beginning to shake. When Artie hesitated, the wizard, shook his head. "I'm not dangerous, Artie. I'm not. Not to my friends. Not to you. I wouldn't - I wouldn't hurt you."

"I don't think you'd mean to," Artie agreed cautiously, glancing from side to side as the classroom began to clear. "I really don't. You're not... bad, you're just..."

"Crazy," Harry finished for him, beginning to back away. The wizard just shook his head as Artie looked at him apologetically. "I'm not - forget it. I'll leave you alone."

"No, come on, Harry, I didn't mean-" Artie began, but Harry just turned and stomped out of the room.

This time the wizard couldn't blame the crowd from parting when he stalked through. His damp hair was still slicked back off his face, and the scowl he was sporting would have rivalled Snape on a bad day. He cut swiftly through the parting students to get to Kurt's classroom, hoping his boyfriend would be waiting for him. Harry relaxed a little when he saw the boy's lean form resting against the wall outside his class, texting away with a little grin on his face. The wizard slipped up next to him, placing a gentle hand on his lower back, and Kurt smiled vacantly.

"Hey, sweetie, how was your shower?" he asked idly, pressing a distracted kiss to Harry's scarred forehead with his eyes still glued to his iPhone. Harry shrugged.

"Mr Schuester got nosy, but I'm clean, so it was fine," Harry rose up on his toes to look at the screen of Kurt's phone. The name Blaine at the top of the message bar made his stomach clench, and he dropped back down. "Blaine again?"

"Yeah, we're arguing. We have been for almost an hour," Kurt giggled a little, shooting Harry a sheepish glance. "He's claiming that Katy Perry is more talented than Lady Gaga! I can't stand for that kind of nonsense."

"That is nonsense," Harry agreed, some of the tension melting away. "I mean, I love Teenage Dream as much as the next guy, but come on. Lady Gaga is an icon."

"See? You understand. I'm telling him you agree with me," Kurt's fingers flew over the screen as he linked his other hand with Harry's. Harry smiled and started leading them to his next class. After a moment, Kurt announced. "Blaine says you're biased and therefore not a valid source."

Harry snorted, "Tell him that just because I'm biased doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Kurt giggled and tapped away, only pausing to kiss Harry again briefly when they reached his class. Harry waved goodbye to his boyfriend and sighed. _One more hour until I go home. The question now is do I dread it or look forward to it?_

* * *

After Harry's last class he made his way to his car as fast as he could. He had barely half an hour to get home and make sure Remus wasn't freaking out, and that it wasn't a complete disaster zone, and that there weren't owls and enchanted paraphernalia lying around - _why is so much of my life spent rushing everywhere?_ He drove out of the parking lot carefully, and made his way home on automatic - his brain was busy plotting and planning. _Okay, blood and glass first - no, Remus first, make sure he's alright. But if Mr Schuester sees the blood he's going to wonder if one of us was hurt, and I healed the cut on Remus's foot... if necessary I'll cut my foot and say it's my blood._

He pulled into the driveway, his eyes sweeping across the flower beds in front of the porch._ Those look tidy. With any luck Remus has been cleaning._ Sure enough, the vacuum cleaner stood in the hallway, and Harry sighed in relief. _Maybe Mr Schuester won't stay long if he sees it's clean._

The Wizarding teen wandered into the living room, noting with satisfaction that the blood spots on the carpet had been cleaned. Remus sat glued to the television, Harry's credit card in hand, and he was muttering as he watched a woman on screen sell watches to a bottle-blonde host.

"Good afternoon, Remus," Harry greeted him, some of the stress dissipating at the sight of his guardian's calm. Remus looked over in surprise.

"James! When did you get here?" he asked cheerfully, and Harry's veins turned to ice. The werewolf stood and approached Harry with his arms open, pulling the smaller boy into a brief, friendly hug. When he pulled away the wild-eyed man laughed a little. "Merlin, James, what happened to you? You're tiny!"

"Uh-" Harry stuttered, thinking fast. He forced down the pain in his heart as he tried to keep Remus happy. "Accident with a spell. Shrunk me a bit. Should be back to normal soon, though."

Remus laughed, a carefree, happy laugh that Harry had never heard before. There was joy in his eyes that the teenager didn't recognise, an innocent, pure joy that comes from being totally content, "Where are Lily and Harry? It's weird seeing you without them."

"They're - visiting family. Look, Remus-" Harry glanced at the clock over the werewolf's shoulder, wincing when he realised that it would be less than 20 minutes before his teacher would arrive. "I have a - friend. Who's coming here. A muggle friend."

Remus frowned a little, thoughtfully, "Why here?"

"Too much magical stuff at my place," Harry lied quickly, beginning to shuffle the werewolf back in front of the TV. "He won't be here for long, so you can just stay in here, alright? We'll be out of your hair soon."

"Okay, James," Remus smiled indulgently, settling back into his seat. "Whatever you need to do. What are friends for, right?"

"...right, Remus. Thank you," Harry blinked back the tears burning his eyes. If his timing was right, the time Remus thought he was in was when Sirius and James had thought Remus was the Death Eater of their family. It would only be a few months or even weeks when the werewolf would find out that not only did his best friends not trust him, but his lover had apparently betrayed them. _No wonder he's dreaming he's there._The boy couldn't help but speak up. "Remus?"

"Yes, James?" the werewolf glanced over, a little smile still curling up at the corners of his mouth.

"You're a true friend," Harry forced passed the lump in his throat, making himself smile at Remus's puzzled look. "I just want you to know I knew - I _know _that, and I... appreciate it."

Remus's smile was wide and warm, "Thank you, James. But it's no more than you would do for me. Go and get ready for your friend."

Harry turned before Remus could see the tears in his eyes and slipped out of the living room, shutting the door behind him. He took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly. Just have to get through the next couple of hours, Potter. Then you can cry if you need to.

He made his way to the kitchen, noting with a sigh that the empty vial pyramid was still there. That sigh deepened when he walked past the counters separating the main kitchen from the dining table and found the glass and the blood still over the floor. _Guess he only did the living room and the garden. That's helpful. _Harry slipped his wand out from under his shirt and focused, pointing at the glass and speaking, "Repairo."

For a moment, nothing happened. _What...? _Before he could speak the spell again the glass started twitching on the ground, slowly sliding across the floor to piece back together in the centre of the crash. It took nearly a minute for all the pieces to join together, by which point Harry was more than a little nervous. _Okay, what the fuck is up with my magic? I can usually repair a glass wandlessly. Without looking. From another room. Now I'm repairing stuff like a first-year? I've got to talk to Hermione about this when her proposal is in._

He walked over to the glass and picked it up. It shattered in his hand.

"Shit!" he hissed, letting his hand go floppy as the pieces of glass sliced into his palm and fell to the floor again. He yanked his hand close to his chest, blood quickly soaking Kurt's white shirt, and he hurried over to run his hand under the tap. A few shards of glass were sticking out of the shallow cuts on his palm, and he growled in frustration. He began to pick out the broken glass with his thumb nail, wincing when the movement aggravated the shallow scratches on his palm. He shook his head. _How the hell did that happen? Did it not repair properly? At least it isn't deep. Maybe I should just try to clean up the blood and clear the glass the muggle way_. Harry pressed a dish towel to his bleeding palm and snatched his wand out of its holster with his other hand.

"Scourgify," he snapped, watching with relief and satisfaction as the stain quickly cleared. _That's better._ He put his wand away idly, tying the dish towel around his hand to slow the bleeding, and went to find the vacuum cleaner. It was still in the front hallway, thankfully, and he set to work vacuuming up the glass. When he was done he put the orange juice back in the refrigerator from where he'd left it that morning, disposed of the pyramid with an exasperated scowl, and placed Remus's plates and cups into the dishwasher. When he heard the knock on the door he was relatively relaxed - _or as relaxed as I can be with Remus literally hallucinating and Mr Schuester here to meddle _- and went to open the door without hesitation. Mr Schuester smiled at him when he opened the door, but before Harry could greet him the smile slipped off his face.

"Harry, what happened?" the teacher urged, looking down at Harry's chest. Harry looked down in puzzlement, starting when he saw the blood on his shirt.

"What - oh right, my hand," the teenager raised his scratched hand, still wrapped in a dish towel, to Mr Schuester's line of vision. "I dropped a glass. It's just scratched, and I've vacuumed it all up."

Mr Schuester looked suspicious for a moment, before reaching out at poking the spot just under the blood stain. When Harry's only reaction was to raise an eyebrow at him, the man sighed, "Sorry. Just checking. Can I take a look at your hand?"

"Sure, just come into the kitchen," Harry lead the man into the house, motioning for him to be quiet as they passed the closed living room door. "Remus is in there. He knows you're here, but... he kind of thinks I'm my dad again."

"Why does that keep happening?" Mr Schuester asked as they made their way to the kitchen. Harry shrugged.

"I don't really know. I think it's because the first few months after I was born - when my parents and his former partner were still alive - were the happiest he's ever been. And I look a lot like my father. Like, a lot. Only shorter. His brain just wants to be somewhere happier, I guess."

"Leaving you behind in an unhappy reality," Mr Schuester concluded with a tired nod. Harry shrugged again.

"Yeah, but whatever. It could be worse," the smaller boy hopped up onto the kitchen bench so he was closer to Mr Schuester's height, and unwrapped the dish-cloth from his hand. "See? They're just little scratches."

Mr Schuester took Harry's wrist and inspected his palm closely, squinting at the cuts. After a moment he nodded, "Yeah, those are fine. I wonder why it bled so much?"

"Guess I'm just a little bleeder," Harry quipped with a grin, hopping down off the bench. "The house is actually pretty clean - Remus tidies up most of the day, when he isn't buying from the shopping channel."

"I can see that," Mr Schuester agreed, looking up with a faint smile. "I can see my reflection in the light fitting."

"He's thorough," Harry looked around. "I haven't actually checked most of the house yet, I was busy with the glass, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Okay," Mr Schuester looked around. "Do you need help with laundry, cooking?"

"I think it should be okay-" Harry began, but cut himself off when he heard a crash from the living room. He was sighing and running out of the kitchen in the same heartbeat, his teacher hot on his heels. In the living room they found Remus lying under the over-turned coffee table, humming to himself while he continued to watch the television upside down. Harry paused in the doorway.

"Remus?" he began after a moment, aware of Mr Schuester hovering awkwardly over his shoulder. His guardian looked over with dazed eyes and smiled.

"Hi, James!" he greeted cheerfully. Harry forced a little smile and ignored the sharp intake of breath behind him.

"Remus, why are you under the coffee table?" Harry tried, wandering into the room to survey the sudden mess. Almost every piece of furniture in the room was upside down; the sofas, the tables, the paintings. The bookcase was face-down on the ground, books scattered around it, and the plant at the side of the room was on its side, soil spilling everywhere. _Goddammit, this room was clean 15 minutes ago!_

Remus blinked up at the teenager, then looked around the room. The puzzled expression became one of dawning understanding, then little sheepish when he admitted, "I have no idea. God, what am I doing?"

Harry just pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a pause as Remus tried to scramble up, thanking Mr Schuester politely when the man righted the coffee table. Remus held out his hand for the man to shake as he staggered to his feet, forcing a smile to his face.

"Hello again, William," the werewolf murmured, his face somewhat ashamed. Harry relaxed a little - it seemed like Remus was coming back to himself. "I - I'm sorry about that. I don't know what I was thinking, calling Harry 'James' - I was confused. Um..."

The man looked over at his ward helplessly, clearly still lost even if he was a bit more aware. Harry tried to smile soothingly and took his guardian's hand.

"It's all right, Remus. You're very tired," Harry comforted him, lightly tugging him around the teacher and towards the door. "Maybe you should go and have a lie down until you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, - that's a good idea," Remus agreed, shooting a nervous glance around the room. His eyes slid over the wreck of the room, and then he dropped his gaze to the ground. "I can - you don't need to clean this up, I'll do it."

"We got it," Mr Schuester spoke up, his voice carefully neutral. Remus still flinched and started backing out of the room.

"Right. I'll just..." the werewolf wandered away, leaving his ward and the teacher standing in the wrecked room. Harry could feel the compassionate gaze on his back, but he just ignored it in favour of shifting the coffee table back to where it was meant to be, picking up the magazines and remotes that had fallen with it. His teacher didn't speak either, just grabbed the arm of the sofa and started to try and lift it. After a moment Harry helped him, and they flipped both of the couches in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Next chapter, and check out (w)(w)(w) dot True Glee dot net for the first in the Sexual Experimentation for the Borderline Asexual Series! It's at the bottom of the Anonymity'Verse page. I don't know if I've managed to get comments enabled yet (#isanoob) but if you'd like to leave a review, feel free to do it here. I'd love to here what everyone thinks! The blog also as a post (singular, as of yet, because I suck) but I'll try to answer review questions there instead of in A/Ns. :) Thank you to everyone who reviews, they make my day. A few people show up every time and I couldn't be more grateful (graceless_dance, JasonDragon64, and WizardsGirl, to name a few, you all know you you are and you're awesome) but I understnad that not everyone has time to. Still, my phone blows up every day with emails of Story Alerts, Author Alerts, and Favourites, and I love you guys for it!) (**EDITED TO ADD:** I have fixed the link in TrueGlee! You can now see Bumping Uglies! Thanks to the people who let me know!)

* * *

They worked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts as they slowly righted the room. The next time Mr Schuester spoke was when they were putting the books back into the bookshelf.

"How did your parents die?" he asked softly, carefully. Harry paused, turning over an anthology of Shakespeare in his hands.

"They were murdered," he eventually answered, slipping the book back into the shelf and reaching down to grab another couple. "They were military - well, government-level law enforcement anyway. I don't know how to explain it. But they pissed off the wrong guy."

Mr Schuester stared for a few moments, apparently deciding whether or not to believe the boy or not. The teenager rolled his eyes, "I can get the news paper clipping if you like."

"No, it's fine. I believe you," the teacher blushed a little and busied himself with the bookcase. "It's just - your life is very dramatic, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it," Harry grumbled, shoving another book into the shelf, silently apologising to his mental-Hermione for creasing the cover. "It's always 'murder' this and 'explosion' that. I've got more lives than a cat."

"It would make a great action movie," Mr Schuester smiled, gently teasing. A reluctant smile pulled at Harry's face.

"Good luck to them finding an actor short enough to play me," he quipped, pointedly looking up at Mr Schuester. When the teacher stifled a laugh Harry went on, carrying the joke. "And who could play Kurt?"

"Hmm..." the teacher hummed thoughtfully as they straightened a few more of the books. "Johnny Depp."

"Really?" Harry thought about the few movies he had watched that starred the actor (namely Sweeney Todd and Pirates of the Caribbean) and squinted. "Why? They look nothing alike."

"No, they don't," Mr Schuester agreed, picking up a photo frame and smiling at the picture of baby Harry and his mother within. "But they're both pretty without actually looking like women, and Johnny Depp knows how to camp it up. I think he'd play a great Kurt. An older Kurt, obviously, but I stand by that judgement."

"True. I think Kurt would like that," Harry laughed a little, blushing when Mr Schuester shot him a warm look over the photo. "And quit looking at my baby pictures! Who would play the other glee kids? If we're doing older actors, I mean."

Twenty minutes later the living room was back in order and Harry and Mr Schuester were arguing whether Rosario Dawson or Michelle Rodriguez would make a better Santana.

"No, I get what you're saying about Rodriquez being tough, but Santana is all about sex-appeal. This of Rosario Dawson as Mimi - can't you see Santana playing that?" Harry argued, brushing the dust off of his hands. Mr Schuester nodded.

"All right, I concede the point. Rosario Dawson it is," the teacher cast a critical eye over the room. "That looks better, doesn't it?"

"Much better," Harry agreed, beginning to head for the door. "If you give me a couple of minutes I'll just check that he hasn't trashed any other rooms."

"Sure, you want me to wait here?" Mr Schuester nodded to a couch, and Harry smiled, relaxing a fraction more. _No risk of him seeing a bird in the house. Score!_

"That would be great, yeah," Harry waved his teacher to the couch and made his way to the door. Mr Schuester's voice made him pause.

"But you'll call me if you need help with anything?"

"Will do," Harry confirmed, flashing the teacher a smile before slipping out of the room. He found everything as it should be downstairs, although he had to grab several empty vials from every room, and did a quick scan of the upstairs as well. He left Remus's door shut, not really wanting to know whether the werewolf was taking more Draught, and smiled at the sight of the owl on his desk.

"Hello, Bergamasque," he greeted softly, shutting his door behind him and going for the window. He could feel the owl's eyes on him as he opened the window wide and glanced around outside. "Can I ask you to wait somewhere else for a few hours? I have a muggle guest who can't see you."

Luna Lovegood's owl stared at him with large eyes eerily similar to her owner's. The bird silently hopped to the windowsill, not breaking eye contact with the wizard, fluttered onto the sill, and flew away without a sound, letter still attached to her leg. Harry watched her go, feeling the same unsettled feeling he always did when he'd seen that owl._ I have to ask Luna where she got that animal. There's something very... odd about it._

Harry looked over his shoulder when he heard a noise in the hallway. He made his way back to his bedroom door, but had to jump out of the way as it swung open violently. The teenager suddenly found himself with an armful of weeping werewolf, Remus's tears quickly soaking through the thin cotton of his shirt at the shoulder. Harry suppressed a sigh.

_Okay then._

"Shh, Remus, what's wrong?" he patted his guardian on the back awkwardly and steered the man towards his bed. When they were sitting Remus pulled back, rubbing at his face on the back of his sleeve.

"It's stupid, it's so stupid," the werewolf growled, running a trembling hand through his hair and shoving something into Harry's hand. "I just - I'm out of Draught. I've gone through my months' supply already," Remus shook his head, eyes still damp and mouth twitching into a mirthless smile. Harry blinked.

"Oh. Shit. Can you get more?" he looked around the room helplessly. He'd never asked where Remus got the potions from before, and Remus had never told him. It was one of those guardian things that Remus was meant to deal with, but if the man wasn't functioning Harry might need to take over. _The last thing I need is a withdrawing werewolf on the full moon. _Remus shook his head.

"This Draught isn't even legal in the United States - not in the quantities we take it. It's classified as a restricted drug. I get it specially shipped over from Europe by an unscrupulous apothecary owner."

"I'm uncomfortable with the fact that you felt the need to describe him as unscrupulous."

"Well it's true. No one else would give them to us in the quantity we need," Remus seemed to be almost pouting, his lip quivering a little. "And he'll only sell to me because he knows I won't rat him out. But I've run out and it'll take days to get more and I can't go without it, Harry, I just can't."

"All right, it's all right," Harry soothed him, rubbing slow circles on Remus's back as the man dissolved into little sobs. "You can take some of mine and just write to him for more tomorrow. You're sure there isn't anywhere we can get it here?"

"I'm sure, Harry, it's restricted!" Remus pulled away from his ward's soothing touch, standing to pace across Harry's bedroom. "You think I haven't tried to find us a supplier in the US? I'm not completely incompetent."

"Okay, okay, it's fine. Look, just have some of mine," Harry opened his drawer and grabbed a couple of Draughts. "Take one and go and lie down, okay? I'll let you know when dinner is ready."

Remus wavered in his stride, stopping and looking at Harry with wide eyes. Harry sighed as Remus's eyes welled up again, forcing himself to his feet to try to comfort the werewolf.

"Come on, what's wrong now?" he murmured tiredly, reaching out a hand to try and grasp Remus's arm. The werewolf violently flung himself back, shoving Harry's hand away with a sudden scowl.

"Don't touch me, I don't want your pity," the man spat. Harry stepped back, his eyes going wide as Remus became visibly agitated. "I don't want your pity. I'm not crazy!"

"Remus, I know," Harry shrank away from the sudden, confusing rage. He forced himself not to flinch, not to cry, comforting himself in his mind. _It's just the Calming Draughts. Side effects of long term use include mood swings and irrationality. They're restricted for a reason. Don't lose it, Potter. Not now._"I know you're not crazy. I've never thought that. You're just -"

"I can't do this," Remus muttered, snatching the bottles out of Harry's hand and shuffling towards Harry's bedroom door. "I just can't do this right now, Harry. Just - I'll be in my room."

The man stomped out of the room, his shoulders slumped. Harry blinked back tears at the sight of Remus so broken, but he hurriedly forced them away when Mr Schuester slipped into his room only a second later.

"Harry, are you all right?" the teacher asked softly, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. His eyes were kind and worried, and Harry busied himself with straightening the music books on his desk. "I came up when I heard him in your room. He seems a little..."

"How much did you hear?" Harry's mind started racing, trying to work out if they'd said anything magic related. Mr Schuester's gaze was steady.

"I heard the part where he said he wasn't able to 'find you a supplier in the US'," Harry cringed at the pointed tone, carefully avoiding looking at the teacher. He continued to shuffle the sheet music Kurt had lent him as the teacher went on. "I heard him say that he's been sneaking a restricted drug into the country. It's not worth getting arrested over, Harry."

"I won't get arrested," Harry rolled his eyes, shoving the sheet music into his drawer. He grabbed his History textbook from his bookshelf and dumped it on the desk, still avoiding turning around. "I'm not doing it. I didn't even know where he was getting it before today. Besides, when you have as much money as me you can pretty much get away with everything, sadly."

There was an awkward pause, before Mr Schuester chuckled a little, "That's a decent point. Do you want to do your homework now? I'll get started on dinner."

Harry started and finally looked over his shoulder. Mr Schuester was standing casually towards his wall of photos, looking over the pictures with a small smile. Harry blinked, "That's it?"

At Mr Schuester's curious glance, Harry clarified, "No lecture about taking restricted drugs or anything? I was braced for one."

The teacher laughed again, "No, not right now. Don't worry, it's coming. I just think you have enough to handle right now."

"Oh," Harry looked down at his desk for a moment, idly straightening where his book had landed. _All right then. That's a plus._

"You really do look like your father," Mr Schuester murmured, still squinting at the wall. Harry looked over. The teacher glanced at him briefly and smiled, gesturing to the picture. "And your mother's hair really was like Emma's. Ms Pillsbury's. I actually think her hair might have been redder!"

"It was pretty red," Harry agreed with a smile, moving to join the teacher at the wall. He gazed up at all the photos of the people in his life, of Ron and Hermione making faces on his dorm room bed in second year; of him playing basketball with Puck and Finn and Artie, Kurt sitting in the background with a magazine; of he and Kurt and all the Glee girls piled on Santana's bed, sparkling rainbow make up making them look like gay clowns... of him sitting on Kurt's lap in the choir room, smiling widely without any regard to his scars.

"What were their names?" Mr Schuester whispered, eyes still glued to Harry's parents. "I know Remus said them earlier, but I don't remember."

"Lily and James," Harry's voice was equally soft, turning his gaze to the picture that had caught his teacher's eye. "Lily Anne Evans and James Simon Potter. I was a little over a year old when that picture was taken. It was about a month before they died."

"You don't remember them at all, then?" Mr Schuester looked at Harry thoughtfully, compassionately. Harry shrugged.

"Not really. None of the good stuff. Sometimes I think I remember them dying - mum was in the same room as me. I remember hearing her scream. What she said. But only - only in dreams."

_Or near Dementors. Same thing._

"It might be my mind making it up," he went on after a moment, awkwardly looking towards his feet. "You know. Trying to fill in the gaps. But it feels real. It's - the only memory I have of my mother's voice."

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, and Harry looked up at Mr Schuester in surprise. The man smiled painfully, his eyes looking worryingly damp, but he just steered Harry towards his desk, "Why don't you get do some of your homework? I'll prepare some dinner so you don't have to do it later."

"You don't have to do that," Harry protested half-heartedly, rubbing his stinging eyes with one hand. Secretly he kind of hoped the teacher would do it anyway - he was so tired that the thought of cooking dinner was exhausting. To his relief, Mr Schuester just kept steering him towards his desk.

"I know. I don't mind. Just worry about getting your homework done, okay? I'll deal with everything," Mr Schuester gave Harry one last pat on the shoulder before making his way out of the room. Harry watched him go with grateful eyes, before sitting at his desk. He'd already gotten his pens out and started up his computer when he realised his bag was downstairs.

The teenager dragged himself to his feet reluctantly and started downstairs. He was moving in his usual unconscious, stealthy way, so Mr Schuester didn't hear him approach the kitchen. Harry slowed when he heard the teacher's hushed, muffled voice through the open door, and when he heard his name he slowed to a stop, guiltily listening in.

"...such a good kid, Emma. I really don't think he's lying about his parents, or about hearing his mother's voice. Ever since Terri... I'm pretty good at picking up lies. He's really suffered," Harry could hear the distress in Mr Schuester's voice, and shifted uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted was to burden his teacher with his issues, but it seemed like that was exactly what had happened. "It breaks my heart like a genuinely good kid like him could have fallen through the cracks. He's got so much going on and all I can do is, what, make him dinner?"

There was a pause as the teacher listened to Ms Pillsbury on the other end of the line. Harry crept forward and glanced into the kitchen cautiously, peering around the door frame. His teacher was pacing the kitchen, pulling out various utensils and vegetables. Harry waited until the teacher had turn back to the fridge before ducking around the doorway, quietly picking up his bag where he had dropped it. He looked back at the kitchen doorway, torn between staying to hear what else Mr Schuester was going to say or giving the man privacy. _On the one hand, he's talking about me, although he's probably not going to be able to tell Ms Pillsbury anything she doesn't already know about me; she's the guidance counsellor, she'll have seen my file. On the other hand, he's more thinking about how he's dealing with it than what he's going to do with me. Better go back upstairs._

Harry waited for the next time the teacher turned around, his guilt rising as he couldn't help but hear what the man said.

"I just feel helpless. At least when Kurt's dad was in the hospital and I went around to help out I felt like I was doing something. I knew it would only be for a little while, and so did Kurt, but this thing with Harry - this isn't going away. I can make him dinner and help him clean up after Remus, and two days later he's back to square one. And he doesn't seem to think it's a problem! He just seems confused that anyone cares about him enough to want to help."

Harry furrowed his brow. _What...? _Mr Schuester continued, oblivious to the effect his distress was having on the teenager hovering behind the door.

"He doesn't seem to know that he's a kid, you know? A kid who doesn't have to be responsible and in charge all the time. And that we care about him, not just as Kurt's boyfriend but as Harry. It's making it really hard to reach out to him when he doesn't understand why I'd want to in the first place."

_He doesn't know,_ Harry countered automatically, his hands tightening on the straps of his bag. _He doesn't know what I am. Who I am. None of them do. And they wouldn't still be here if they did. He doesn't understand. _

He couldn't bear to hear anymore. The teenager took a deep breath and slipped past the teacher silently, using a faint Notice-Me-Not charm to prevent the man from looking over. He ran up the stairs and into his room, mind racing, eyes burning.

_There's no reason for them to,_ he thought as he shut his bedroom door, throwing his bag onto his bed with a fierce scowl. _There's no reason for them to worry about me like that. I'm fine!... Okay, even I know that's a lie, but it shouldn't matter. I shouldn't matter that much. I'm not worth it. _

Harry dropped into his desk chair and put his face in his hands. A weak shudder coursed through him, little flickers of memories flitting through his mind. He remembered strangers staring as he walked down the street after he killed Voldemort, fear and curiosity and awe in every eye. He remembered his Uncle's purple face looming over him when he was eight, screaming about Harry being a worthless ingrate as he reached for his belt. He thought about Ron and Hermione covered in bruises and burns as they trained; they wouldn't have needed to if they weren't his friends. _I'm not worth it. _

The wizard scrubbed at his face painfully, ignoring the tugging of his scars, and forced himself to look up. With faintly trembling hands he grabbed his school bag and pulled out his History notes, placing them lightly on his desk. For the next hour Harry tried to focus on Winston Churchill and Stalin, tried not to let his mind wander to the dark places it had started to go. He managed to make a decent start on an essay when Mr Schuester tapped lightly on the door, opening it enough for him to stick his head in.

"How's it going?" the teacher greeted cheerfully, slipping inside at Harry's idle gesture. The boy shrugged.

"Not bad. History's pretty interesting, at least. I think it's my best subject right now," he carefully clicked 'save' on his computer, remembering with a faint smile Kurt's patient lessons on how to use the machine several months ago.

("You've never used a computer? Really?"

"I have, just not very much. We didn't use them at my old school, and I wasn't allowed to use one at home. I only really use it for Google now. I didn't know you could do all this stuff on it. What's that thing you're doing now?"

"It's Pinball, Harry, and it's awesome.")

"That's good," Mr Schuester's voice brought Harry back to the present, and the warmth in it made Harry duck his head. "Well, I've thrown a salad and some steaks together, you can just heat everything up when you're ready."

"Thank you," Harry sighed, feeling a little bit of tension dispel. "I know I protested, but I'm actually really tired. I don't know how I would have cooked tonight."

"That's quite all right, Harry," the man's smile was wide, gratified, and Harry managed to smile back. "I'm happy to help. Is there anything else you need help with? Laundry, anything?"

"Remus did the laundry this weekend, I think we're fine," Harry looked around the room, a tight, uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest. "I really don't think there's anything left for you to do, to be honest."

"Okay," Mr Schuester shrugged casually, shifting towards the door. "In that case, I guess I'll head out-"

"Do you have to?" Harry's eyes widened when the words slipped out of his mouth, his voice strangely small. He flushed when Mr Schuester froze and stared at him for a moment, and he turned back to his desk. "I'm sorry, of course you can go home. I'm fine, I don't need anything else. I'm sorry."

"I don't need to go home if you want me to stick around for a while," the teacher's voice was soft, careful, and Harry avoided his eyes.

"No, I'm just being silly. I don't want to stop you going home, I just..." Harry trailed off._ You just what, Potter? Acting like a five-year-old? What the hell is wrong with me?_"It's fine. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising," Mr Schuester's voice was gently chastising, and Harry could sense the man shifting closer. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Especially not just for wanting some company."

"Right," Harry nodded gratefully, taking the opening Mr Schuester gave him. "And you made dinner, it seems rude not to invite you to eat with us."

"I'd be happy to," Mr Schuester patted Harry on the shoulder, and the teenager finally turned around to face him. "Do you need to finish your homework?"

"I can do it after dinner," Harry shook his head. He glanced at the clock on the corner of his computer screen briefly, then got to his feet. "Do you want to watch TV or something? We have cable."

"Sure," the teacher agreed as they wandered over to the door. "That sounds fun."

Some time and much channel surfing later found the teacher attempting to explain the rules of American football to an increasingly bemused Harry.

"...and then the kicker comes out. With me so far?"

"Not even nearly," Harry admitted, taking a sip of his glass of milk as he watched the game with confused eyes. Mr Schuester laughed a little at Harry's honesty, shrugging a little.

"I guess it's not for everyone. I was never a huge fan until I had students playing," the man settled back into the deep plush couch, sighing contentedly.

"I don't understand why that would be fun to do," Harry shook his head, wincing as the burly men on screen slammed into one another head first. "The whole thing seems like an excuse to either injure other men or feel them up, I can't tell."

Mr Schuester snorted at Harry's deadpan expression and nudged his shoulder, "You're beginning to sound like Kurt, you know."

"Nah, I've always been sarcastic. I'm just not as fast as him usually," Harry smiled as the teacher continued to chuckle. The boy looked over to the clock and started. "Wow, time flies. Do you want to have dinner soon?"

"Sure," the teacher stood up and grabbed his empty can of soda. "How about I warm up the steaks, you go and get Remus?"

"Okay, be down in a little while," Harry handed the teacher his glass and made his way to the stairs. He took several fortifying breaths as he jogged up to the second floor, tamping down his dread as he approached Remus's bedroom door.

_Maybe he'll be okay_, he thought hopefully, raising a hand to knock. _He just needs to not be a complete lunatic for another hour. He can do that, right?_

The door swung open moments after Harry's knock, and the teenager suppressed a sigh when he saw the wand pointing at his face._ No, no he can't._

"Merlin, Harry, sorry," Remus mumbled, rubbing his face with his unarmed hand. He dropped his wand as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, and Harry caught it and tucked it into his sleeve before it could hit the ground. "I was dreaming - didn't know where I was. What's going on?"

"Dinner's ready," Harry shrugged simply, ignoring the dazed look in his guardian's eyes. _Hey, he knows who I am. That's an improvement_. "Mr Schuester cooked, so he's staying to eat with us."

"Mr Schuester?... he was here earlier, wasn't he?" Remus's eyes widened a little, and Harry nodded grimly. "He saw..."

"Everything," Harry agreed, dropping his voice. "Nothing magic, though."

He raised his voice again and stepped back from the door, indicating that Remus should walk in front of him, "It's fine, just come and have dinner. He cooked steaks."

"Right, just let me get..." Remus muttered, turning back into his room. Harry frowned a little, an expression which darkened when he saw Remus reach for another bottle.

"Seriously? You don't need another one, Remus," Harry growled, stomping over and snatching the vial out of the werewolf's hand. "For Merlin's sake, you're already barely _compus_."

"I need it," Remus protested, grabbing for the Draught. "Harry, you don't understand-"

"My PTSD is as bad as yours, I know damn well what it's like," the boy countered, shoving away Remus's hands. "Just - go downstairs and eat dinner, all right? You can have another one after dinner."

"Why the hell do you think you get any say in when I take them?" Remus snarled, drawing himself up tall and towering over his ward. Harry didn't flinch, just looked up at him stonily. "I'm your guardian, not the other way around. You don't get to tell me what to do."

"I do when your behaviour is causing me problems," Harry said flatly, turning away to drop the Calming Draught in with the other ones. "It's _my _teacher waiting downstairs, probably listening in to make sure you don't go crazy and stab me or something. So just go downstairs and eat like a civilized person. We can deal with this later."

Remus let out a frustrated noise worryingly similar to a growl and stalked out of the room, Harry taking a moment to steel himself before hurrying after him; the last thing he wanted was to do was leave the two men alone together.

Mr Schuester had set the table simply when Harry scurried in after Remus. He looked at the werewolf cautiously and smiled at Harry, and Harry smiled weakly back.

"Thank you so much for cooking, William," Remus muttered, a slight flush rising in his cheeks as he took in the bright green salad and the well cooked steaks. "You didn't need to do that. Harry's a great cook."

"I'm sure he is, but he had homework to do," Mr Schuester pointed out pleasantly, a hint of a challenge in his voice. Harry tensed and looked between the two men, finally shooting Mr Schuester an imploring look; _God, please don't let them kill one another._.. _I'm way too tired to clean that up tonight. _"You know how busy kids are these days, they have so much to do."

"Of... of course," Remus stammered, his cheeks darkening at the barely veiled judgement in Mr Schuester's eyes. Harry felt a hot flush of anger rise in his chest, and he sent his teacher a short glare. _Remus _is mentally ill_, not neglectful. Who the hell does he think he is?_

The teenager swept over to the table, stepping in between the two men and quietly wishing he was tall enough to block their view of one another. He sat himself down in his usual place, forcing a smile at the two men as he gestured, "Well, let's dig in, shall we?"

"Yes, let's," Remus muttered, slipping in quietly next to Harry. Mr Schuester sat down opposite them and reached for the salad servers.

They sat in tense silence for a few minutes, Harry and Mr Schuester's easy camaraderie gone in Remus's presence. Harry thought frantically for something to break the silence, something that wouldn't set either man off.

"Mr Schuester and I were watching a football game earlier, Remus," he blurted out, trying and failing to force away his blush when both men jumped and looked at him. "American football. Do you understand it? I don't."

"No, I never really have," Remus smiled weakly over his steak, tapping a finger against his fork anxiously. "I've never been a big sports fan."

"Me either," Harry agreed, trying to catch Mr Schuester's eye. "It all seems like a homoerotic mess to me."

"That's the only reason I ever went to Sirius's... soccer games," Remus admitted, his slight stammer easily missed. Mr Schuester choked on his glass of water and Harry laughed a little, some of the tension easing.

Harry had almost managed to get a bite of food into his mouth (_Merlin, I'm hungry. When did I last eat anything?_) before everything went to hell again.

Mr Schuester, to his credit, did seem to be trying to be nice when he asked Remus pleasantly, "So have you lived in England all of your life?"

Remus had paused, a wave of confusion passing over his features as he glanced at Harry. Harry lowered his forkful of steak nervously, uncertain as to why that question had made Remus pause. Remus seemed to be quietly assessing the room, and Mr Schuester shifted uncomfortably as the werewolf slowly asked, "Aren't - aren't I in America right now?"

Harry shut his eyes at Remus's genuine confusion. _That fucking potion - how much of his brain is left?_Mr Schuester cleared his throat and nodded a little, looking down at his plate firmly, "Yeah, you are. I meant before this."

"Oh! Oh, yes. I'd never lived outside of the UK before - before now," Remus stammered, his near-perminant blush darkening as his clouded mind began to catch up. "I'd travelled a little, around Europe, but England was my main base. It's rather warm this time of year. America is quite lovely, I'm enjoying it a lot. Idaho is a lovely state."

"Ohio," Harry corrected quietly, aware of Mr Schuester's gaze hardening as Remus continued to ramble, his words uneven and slightly slurred. Remus corrected himself quickly.

"Yes, of course. Ohio. I - I knew that, I just..." Remus trailed, off, and to Harry's horror he looked like he might start crying again. The teenager found his arm suddenly held in an inhumanly tight grip as Remus latched onto him.

"Something the matter, Remus?" he asked quietly, his ears burning red as Mr Schuester shifted in his seat, his expression calculating. Remus tugged Harry closer, visibly beginning to tremble as sweat began to pool on his brow.

"I need to take another po-" Remus began to hiss, eyes wide and desperate. Harry cut him off before he could use the wrong word.

"No you don't, for fucks sake," Harry fumed quietly, shooting Mr Schuester a frantic apologetic glance before getting to his feet and dragging Remus into the hallway. He slammed the kitchen door behind him and rounded on Remus, the swelling rage in his chest abruptly melting away when he saw the way Remus wrung his hands. He sighed and reached forward, trying to sooth the anxious man by rubbing his arms. "Hey, now, it's okay. There's nothing to be frightened of."

"I want my potion," Remus nearly whimpered, and a memory flashed into Harry's mind; a vision of Remus standing calm and determined between he and a Deatheater in his fifth year. He'd been so strong, so brave... Harry couldn't help but stare as Remus's wild eyes flickered around the room and the man began to tug harshly at his fingers. _There's almost none of him left. _"Harry, please. I want it. I need it. I need to -"

"Go, Remus," Harry's voice sounded far away to him, like he was hearing someone else speak down a corridor. "Just - go take it. Go to sleep."

Remus turned and made his way up the stairs without another word, moving faster and more eagerly than Harry had seen in a long time. Harry stared up after him even after his feet had disappeared, lost in thought and memory.

_He taught me a Patronus_, Harry's mind supplied helplessly_. He gave me a connection to my parents. He told me that my mother's favourite colour was purple and gave me my father's favourite gloves. He was there for me in ways that even Sirius wasn't and now it's like he's gone. Remus, where are you?_

The hand that landed on Harry's shoulder at that point made him jump. Mr Schuester stood just behind him, eyes distressed, but before the teacher could speak Harry stepped quietly away and back into the kitchen. He didn't know what to say to the man. He didn't know how he could justify Remus's behaviour as it got more and more erratic, more and more unstable.

The teenager quietly began cleaning up he and Remus's plates; his appatite was gone. Mr Schuester slipped in to the room and closed the door quietly. Harry stiffened as the tension in the room grew, forcing himself not to throw the plates at the wall in frustration.

"Harry," Mr Schuester's voice was delicate, careful, but even that proved too much for Harry's nerves as the man went on. "You have to know that this isn't-"

"Just stop," Harry snarled, shutting his eyes against the sudden flood of tears that welled in them. "Stop. Don't say it. I can't - Just don't say it."

"You're not safe here, Harry. Remus isn't good for you," Mr Schuester pressed on regardless, and Harry whirled to face him with a furious scowl.

"Shut up," Harry hissed, hands clenching at his sides. Behind the teacher the glass of a small photo on the wall began to crack and splinter, and the wizard forced himself to take a deep breath. "Just shut up, all right? You don't know a damn thing about the don't know Remus. You don't know what he's done for me, what he's given up for me-"

"You're right, I don't know a thing about who Remus used to be," Mr Schuester spoke over Harry in an almost-shout, frustration and anger apparently overriding his fear of frightening the teen. "All I know is what I see now, and I see a child having to take care of a neglectful junkie!"

"_Shut up!_" Harry shouted, vaguely hearing a window rattle behind him. He forced his magic back desperately even as rage began to cloud his thoughts. "He's not a junkie, he's just sick! He's been through so much, don't you _dare _look down on him for this. You have no fucking idea how hard it is to just _function _when you feel this scared all the time."

"No, I don't," Mr Schuester agreed, his face stony. His voice was quiet again, and he seemed to be back in control of his temper, but the fury bubbling under the surface was still visible in the tightness of his jaw and the way he clenched his fists. "But I know you do. I know you're feeling everything that he is, Harry, and I know you're having to deal with it as though you were the parent. It's not right."

"No, it's not," Harry snapped, green eyes flashing as the teacher continued to stare at him with barely concealed pity in his eyes. "But it's what it is. And I think you should go."

The man and the boy stared at one another for almost a full minute. Harry's chest was heaving with hard breaths as he forced himself not to shake. _How _dare _he - he knows nothing about Remus, nothing about what he's been through. I can take care of myself, this is none of his business. I can handle it._

Mr Schuester's tired sigh punctured some of the tension in the room. Harry let himself relax a little as the man rubbed a hand across his face, unclenching his fists cautiously.

"I'll go," the teacher agreed, holding up one finger when Harry subtly sighed with relief. "_If_you call Kurt tonight."

"I was going to do that anyway," Harry nodded, still a little suspicious. The teacher looked a little placated.

"I understand that you think you don't need help here," Mr Schuester told him as he wandered into the kitchen to grab his keys from the bench. "But you do need support. Will you be willing to accept that from Kurt, at least?"

"Of course," Harry nodded stiffly, flushing as the man shot a look at his unfinished dinner. "Uh - hold on, I'll just grab..."

Harry scurried into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic container from a drawer, hurriedly scraping Mr Schuester's steak and salad into it. The teenager shoved it into the teacher's hand, unable to meet his eyes. "Here. You cooked it, it's only fair you get to eat it."

"Thank you," the teacher's voice was a little more gentle as he accepted the food. "I'll show myself out."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, keeping his eyes on the empty kitchen sink until he heard the front door close. He walked upstairs on autopilot, barely hearing Remus's snores through his open bedroom door, and sat down at his desk quietly.

The past few days felt like they'd been going on for weeks; he couldn't believe his and Kurt's date had only been the day before.

_How can everything have gone to hell so fast?_ he wondered, picking up a framed picture he kept on his desk. Remus and Sirius smiled up at him silently, still in the muggle picture, locked in that happy moment from so many years ago. Harry put it down with a sigh. _It hasn't been fast, though. This has been building for a long time. Remus is losing it. I'm losing it. People in this town are beginning to realise that I'm not what I say I am. I can't - I can't even trust myself not to do something stupid. That fight today... okay, so the jocks beating one another up was pretty funny but it was hardly subtle. And my magic is being... I don't even know. I don't know what the hell is going on anymore. _

He looked around the room blankly, eyes focusing on nothing. There was a tapping on his window, and he looked over with bleary eyes. Bargamasque was back, still staring with big eyes, somehow hovering outside Harry's window without moving her wings. Harry dragged himself to his feet to open the window. The owl flew in and stuck her leg out, pinning him with that same, disquieting stare. Harry scratched a finger under the bird's chin as he tiredly tugged off the letter, jumping a little when she immediately jumped off his desk and out the window, disappearing into the blackness. Harry just sighed and opened the letter. _Weird bloody animal. _The letter was written on stained and rumpled white paper, which was typical for Luna; the girl couldn't keep herself from moving while she wrote. What was unusual was that instead of a messy page of drawings, stories, and half-finished thoughts, there was only a single line in Luna's loopy handwriting:_** Brace for impact.**_

Harry stared at the note for a moment before shaking his head._ Forget the bird, she's a weird bloody girl._ He still placed the letter in his drawer with the others from England. A buzz against his thigh made him jump a little, and he pulled out his phone without thinking. A text from Kurt lit up the screen, and a small smile relaxed Harry's features.

_Hey sweetie!_ the text read._ Hope you're feeling better. Call me tonight, I want to hear your sexy, sexy voice :P_

Harry automatically hit Kurt's number on speed dial, raising the phone to his ear with a heavy hand. _If there's anything that can make me feel better, it's-_

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt," Harry pulled himself off his chair and over to his bed, collapsing onto the silvery grey comforter with a sigh.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Kurt's beautiful voice was light, full of laughter. "How are you? How was your evening?"

Harry paused, trying to work out exactly what he could say to that. Kurt took his hesitation for what it was, "That bad?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed softly, shutting his eyes against the memories of Remus trembling and Mr Schuester shouting. "That bad. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Okay," Kurt agreed easily, though Harry could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. "If you want to go to bed or something, that's fine. I can see you-"

"No!" Harry protested, half sitting up before realising Kurt couldn't see him. "Please don't go."

"Okay, of course," Kurt soothed, and Harry relaxed. A shiver of embarrassment shot through him at his own desperate tone, but it was washed away as Kurt continued to talk. "Do you - what do you need, Harry? How can I help?"

"Can you just talk to me?" Harry begged softly, rolling onto his side on the bed and curling his legs up to his chest. "Just - please?"

"Anything," Kurt responded, his voice equally soft. It picked up again after a moment, and the countertenor began to chat as though everything was fine. "So tonight I made this big fancy dinner for dad, made it as tasty as I possibly could, right? It wasn't until afterwards when he's complimenting me on making something other than rabbit food that he realised the whole thing was vegetarian. The look on his face when I told him he had been eating tofu, oh my god, it was amazing. I thought Finn was going to throw up. Carole nearly fell of her chair she was laughing so hard..."

Harry listened intently to his boyfriend's voice for over an hour. Kurt didn't once complain or try to get Harry to respond, even as his voice got rougher from over-use. Harry could feel himself get more relaxed with every minute, until he finally had to interrupt Kurt's chatter about the latest cover girl of Vogue to mutter, "Kurt?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Kurt was instantly alert, but Harry just mumbled into the phone.

"Thank you. 'm tired."

"Go to bed, Harry," Kurt's voice murmured amusedly into his ear as he began to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"G'night, Kurt," Harry muttered, half-heartedly dragging the sheets out from underneath him and pulling them over his body. "Y'ur w'nderful."

"Thank you, Harry," said Kurt's voice from far away. Harry didn't notice himself continue to babble under his breath for a few moments.

"'npretty," Harry's half-sleep talking continued. "Reall' pretty. I like kissing you."

"I like kissing you too, Harry," Kurt's barely concealed laughter didn't succeed in waking Harry up, and the wizard finally dropped off with one final whisper.

"_Kurt_."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N:_ Sorry this is a bit late, I went to bed early and forgot to post it. Thanks for all the reviews and alerts, they make my day! I have to admit, I'm really stuck on a part a little on from this, so I don't know how long I'll be able to keep to my schedule for, but I can assure you I'm trying. Don't forget to check out the website! My recommendations have been updated and Bumping Uglies is up. :)

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_The Quidditch Field was an odd place for a picnic, but it didn't matter to Harry. Kurt sat opposite him on their purple blanket, gnawing on a carrot with a secret smile dancing across his lips. Harry looked down to try and drag the rest of the food out of the basket, but when he looked up Kurt was gone. He had to look for him, follow the trail of sequins into the Forbidden Forest. He's not worried, though, not frightened. It's a game, see, just a little game Kurt's playing. Everything is okay. But what happened to the centaurs? Hermione was trying to protect them but their blood is all over the forest. It's not funny anymore, not a game, he has to find Kurt and get out of here before what got the centaurs finds them. He turns and there's Kurt, but he's screaming and backing away, looking at Harry with terrified red eyes. The centaurs' blood is on Harry's hands and Kurt's running into the forest..._

Harry woke up with his hands grasping for nothing at the ceiling. He let them drop to the bed on either side of him with a little gasp and waited for his heart rate to slow. He glanced around the room, noting that everything was where he left it, before rubbing his eyes with a sigh.

_At least I didn't vaporize anything this time._

It was still dark-ish out, so it couldn't be more than 5 in the morning, but he didn't think he would be going to school today. He hurt, he was tired, and he was beginning to shake with the effects of withdrawal. He reached into his drawer for a Calming Draught, pulling out the stopper and swallowing it down. He left it on his bedside table and dragged himself out of bed. _I need to check on Remus, take a shower, and get some water, not necessarily in that order._

The clock in the kitchen read 4.56 when he walked in to find Remus sitting at the table. The man was nursing a cup of coffee and staring off into space, but his gaze was clear and focused when it fell on Harry. For a moment they just stared at one another, tension in the air, before Remus sighed and dropped his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, shame lacing his words. "It faded just after midnight. The Draught. I haven't taken another one. I really - I really messed up yesterday, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Harry muttered, wincing when he heard how weak and hoarse his voice was. Remus shook his head, still staring at his cup.

"It's really not."

The time dragged out, Harry eventually moving to get a glass of water. Remus started talking again as Harry drank, soothing his dry throat, "I couldn't sleep last night. The full moon is tonight, it can cause insomnia. But I haven't taken another Draught. I won't until later. I need - I need to be clear-headed, I know that."

"You need to be calm too," Harry pointed out, moving to get another glass. "It's no better for you to be panicking all day."

"Maybe. At least I'll know what's going on then," the werewolf muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. "Are you going to school today?"

"I don't think so," Harry shrugged, chugging his second glass of water. "I'm still exhausted. I might just have a shower and go back to bed."

"Okay. I'll try to keep it down," Remus stood up carefully, and Harry didn't comment on how his fingers were shaking. "Should I let Kurt in if he comes over?"

"Yeah, please," Harry set his glass down in the sink. Remus continued as he walked slowly over to stand next to Harry, still unable to meet his ward's eyes.

"I'll drink my Wolfsbane and go down to the basement at about 5, so don't - "

"Look for you after that, I know, Remus," Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Wake me up if you need anything."

"Sure," Remus agreed softly as Harry walked from the room. Harry knew he wouldn't.

The young wizard took a short shower, scrubbing the dried tears and sweat off his face and body with rough movements. He felt so grimy from having slept in his clothes, and he brushed his teeth furiously in the mirror when he was done. He accidentally caught sight of himself then, shirtless and wet with his hair off his face, and he cringed. The scars on his chest weren't as numerous as the ones on his face, but they were just as disfiguring. Kurt had commented on his abs, but how could anyone see them underneath the web of gouges and gashes that covered him? How could Kurt bear to look at the spider web of imperfections on his face? Harry's mind flew to Blaine all of a sudden, the dapper Dalton lead singer... and Kurt's new best friend. He was good looking, and taller than Harry without being taller than Kurt, and into things that Kurt was. He understood the things that Kurt was going through in a way that Harry couldn't. That gnawing uncomfortable feeling Harry had felt yesterday was back, and this time he recognised it. It wasn't jealously, an idea he had briefly entertained. He trusted Kurt not to cheat on him, and Blaine seemed too nice to try and 'steal Kurt away' or something. It was just...

_He's handsome and charming, and he and Kurt have heaps in common. He's not freakishly small or mutilated, and I bet he isn't mentally ill. What if Kurt realises that he's better? What if he _should_? Am I being selfish keeping Kurt with me when he could be with someone better?_

The teenager ran a hand down a deep burn scar on his chest, eyes chasing over mottled skin and into memories. _Running, screaming - making _them_ scream. Making them _hurt_. I'm - I'm not good for him. I'm not good for anyone. Shouldn't he be with someone who can be what he deserves?__  
_  
Harry looked away from his mirror and down at himself, out of his memories and at the old wounds and new bruises that covered him. _I'm going to drive myself nuts thinking about this. Just go to bed, Potter._

He waved himself dry with a muttered spell, slipping his wand back into its holster. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a loose t-shirt, and collapsed back onto his bed. A glance at the clock showed him that it was nearly 6.15 - Kurt would be up by now. He decided to call his boyfriend; maybe hearing his voice would stave off any nightmares. As soon as the number was dialled he held the phone to his ear. To his surprise, it went to voicemail.

"Oh, hey Kurt. You're usually up by now but maybe your phone is off," Harry rubbed his head, his lingering exhaustion and the stress of everything making his thoughts a little slow. "I just wanted to tell you that I won't be at school today. I'm really tired, so I'm just going to sleep. I hope - things are okay at school. I'm sorry I won't be there. I - take care, okay? Don't take any chances with the jocks or anything. I - thank you for last night. You're amazing. You deserve - you deserve everything."

Harry frowned at his own words. _Okay, you're beginning to ramble, Potter. Time to end the call and get some more sleep. Because apparently the 9-odd hours you already got weren't enough. _"I'll see you later, okay? Goodbye, Kurt."

He let the phone fall away next to him, drifting off again. _Why am I so damn tired? Oh well, I guess it's time to sleep again. Here's to hoping Remus doesn't buy a circus or something today._

* * *

_Dark, oppressive darkness. He was in his cupboard and about to be yanked out-_

"Harry!"

The young wizard started awake, his magic flaring under his skin but staying in control. Kurt was leaning over him, wide eyed and frantic, his hair falling into his eyes and one hand on Harry's neck.

"Wha-Kurt?" Harry mumbled, raising a hand to his face. He began to look around. "What time is it?"

"Harry, how many did you take?" Kurt pleaded, grasping Harry's shoulder tightly in one long-fingered hand and holding up the empty vial of Calming Draught. There were tears in his eyes and his face was pale and terrified. It took Harry a few moments to piece the scene together.

_He can only see an empty pill bottle. He thinks I took them all._

"One," Harry said quickly, sitting up in bed. The last of the sleep left his eyes and he grabbed Kurt's hand. "Only one, Kurt, it was just the last one in the bottle. I didn't take them all, I promise."

Kurt's face crumpled in relief, but he still held Harry's gaze fiercely and clung to his t-shirt, "I swear, Harry, if you're lying to me, I will call an ambulance right fucking now-"

"I'm not," Harry reached up and caught Kurt by the back of his neck, pulling him forward so their foreheads were touching. It was the first time he had ever heard Kurt seriously swear in his memory, and it shook him to the core. "I'm so sorry, love, I didn't mean to scare you. It was just the end of that bottle. I only took one, I swear to you."

"Fuck, Harry," Kurt choked out, dropping the empty vial in favour of pulling Harry to him. The taller boy was trembling from head to foot, and Harry could feel the wetness of tears soaking through his t-shirt. "_Fuck_. You sounded so out of it on the phone and I was sure something was wrong, so I came over and the bottle was empty and you were on top of the blankets and just - don't ever scare me like that again, okay? I thought you were _dead_."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered into his neck, curling his arms up and around Kurt's waist. He dug his fingers into the soft cotton of Kurt's t-shirt, trying to pull himself closer than pressed together. "I didn't mean to - you really thought I was going to..."

"I didn't know," Kurt mumbled, pulling away to wipe at his eyes. For the first time Harry noticed what Kurt was wearing; an over-sized long sleeved t-shirt and grey sweatpants. It was the first time Harry had seen him out of designers, with the exception of Glee costumes. Kurt went on, oblivious to Harry's surprise. "I just - I overslept and then I listened to your message as soon as I woke up, and you sounded so out of it, and then you started talking about how I deserved things and when you actually said, 'Goodbye', I don't know. I guess I overreacted but it just sounded so final that I was worried. Then I got here and saw the empty bottle..."

"I'm fine," Harry promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. Kurt made a protesting noise when Harry began to pull away and tugged him back, kissing him firmly with tear-wet lips. Harry let him; anything to sooth the terror in his eyes. When Kurt finally pulled away and buried his face in Harry's shoulder, Harry spoke again. "Really, I'm just tired. I'm so sorry I scared you like that, love. I didn't mean to. You're right, I was really out of it earlier and probably said some weird things, but I wouldn't..."

Harry trailed off to think. _Wouldn't what? Hurt myself? Kill myself? Wouldn't I? I don't think that highly of myself, after all. I've just never thought of it before. I couldn't before, because the world needed me to kill Voldemort, but now it doesn't. I could-_

"Harry," Kurt urged him, catching his face in his hands. He looked up at his boyfriend, the thoughtful look on his face fading to pained at the fear in Kurt's eyes. "I don't trust that look. Please tell me you're not thinking about it. Please, promise me you won't hurt yourself. I know things are bad for you right now, sweetheart, I know, but I - I care about you so much, I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

"I promise," Harry cut in firmly, pushing all those thoughts from his mind. _I won't do anything to hurt Kurt, even hurt myself. No more thoughts. I'm okay. _"I won't, Kurt. I promise you, I won't do it. I won't do that to you."

Kurt slumped against him again, and all Harry could do was hold his boyfriend in his arms. After a few moments he happened to glance at the phone still at his side, and started.

"Kurt, it's half past seven," he murmured into Kurt's neck. "You're not dressed yet. You had better go home and change if you want to get your moisturising done before school."

Kurt huffed into Harry's shoulder, "Why do you have to be so logical all the time."

He sat up with a sniff, still trying to wipe tears off his face, and suddenly he looked down, "Oh Gaga."

"What?" Harry asked softly, quirking at eyebrow at Kurt's horrified expression.

"I can't believe you saw me dressed like this," Kurt moaned, covering his face. "And I haven't brushed my hair yet, and I haven't even thought about skin care. Gucci, I look _terrible_."

"You look gorgeous," Harry corrected with a gentle smile, running his fingertips down Kurt's cotton covered arm. "Really. As much as I like your clothes, I love seeing you just as you."

Kurt's face went pink, but a pleased smile danced around his lips, "I'm not giving up my Gucci and McQueen for the Gap, no matter how charming you are, Mr Potter."

"I wouldn't expect or want you to," Harry agreed, brushing some of Kurt's hair out of his eyes. "You use your clothes to express yourself, and they're amazing. Besides, I kind of like knowing that I'm one of a privileged few to see the beautiful man underneath the fabulous diva."

"Very few indeed," Kurt murmured, adoration in his eyes. Harry could feel his mood lifting a little, and smiled back. _I don't deserve him. _Kurt reluctantly dragged himself to his feet, jumping a little when his phone started buzzing from his pocket. A rough country song started pouring from the speaker, and Kurt shot Harry an apologetic glance before answering.

"Hey dad," he sighed, sitting back down next to Harry and allowing the boy to rest his cheek on his shoulder. "I'm at Harry's. What? No I didn't spend the night, I just got here! It's a long story dad, I need to - Fine. He left a message on my phone that worried me. I came to check on him. His pill bottle was empty and I thought he'd taken them all. Turns out he only took one, but it was the last one of the bottle. I panicked. He reassured me. Everything is okay now. Yes, I'm sure he's fine. Well, he says he's fine, so I'm sure he's _not _fine, because he is a _filthy liar _when it comes to how he is, but he's not suicidal, so that's a start. I'm okay too. I mean, I'm a little upset still, given that I thought he was dead not five minutes ago, but I'm okay. I'm coming back home soon... really? You'd - wow, okay. I'll ask Harry."

Kurt lowered the phone and looked at Harry with a bright smile, "My dad says that if you want to come over and hang out at mine today, you can. He's not going to make me go to school. We can spend the day together over there."

"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "That would be amazing. I mean, I would need to check on Remus and I won't be much fun, given how tired I am, but I always want to spend time with you. You know that."

"Shall I say we'll be over in half an hour?" Kurt suggested, getting up again. "That will give you time to get ready and time to make sure Remus will be okay for the day. And we don't have to go rollerblading or something. We can just watch movies and cuddle."

"Sounds perfect," Harry sighed, feeling tension seeping from his shoulders. He leaned back against the head board as Kurt raised the phone again, standing with his weight on one hip as he spoke to his father.

"Dad? Harry would love to come over, I think we could both use a day off after this morning. He just needs some time to get dressed - his _pyjamas_, dad. He's not naked - we'll be over in about half an hour, okay? Love you, dad."

Kurt sighed as he hung up the phone, "How can someone be so cool and so lame at the same time?"

"It boggles the mind," Harry agreed, mostly out of politeness. Kurt apparently could tell; he flipped Harry the bird with the hand that wasn't holding his phone. The smaller boy yawned and dragged himself out of bed. "Right. Clothes. Then, for the first time ever, I will be better dressed than you are."

"How about you go downstairs and make sure Remus has everything he needs," Kurt suggested innocently. "I'll lay out your clothes."

"No sequins," Harry warned him, trudging down the stairs. He found Remus in the living room, staring blankly at the screen of the home shopping channel. Harry's credit card was still sitting on the coffee table, but for once he didn't seem to be interested in buying anything. Harry stopped next to him, waiting for Remus to notice him rather than risk startling him. At Remus' vague nod, he began. "You know that Kurt's here?"

Remus nodded, "He seemed upset. I figured it was best to just let him go right to you."

"Yeah, that was fine," Harry agreed, shifting uncomfortably at the blankness in Remus' eyes. "He's, uh - he's not going to school either, because he was really upset. Do you mind if I go over to his for the day? I'll leave out dinner stuff before I go."

Remus just shrugged, and Harry forced his hurt away. _He's withdrawing. He feels sick and miserable and it's a full moon tonight. It's not personal._

"Right, I'll just - I'll go then," Harry turned and began to walk out. He paused in the doorway, turning half way back to ask, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes," Remus snarled, his sudden vehemence making Harry jump a little. "I'm a grown man, for fuck's sake. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Right," Harry muttered. _It's just the withdrawal and the full moon making him grumpy. It's not personal. It's not._ "I'll see you tomorrow, probably."

Remus grunted as Harry slipped out into the corridor. Harry closed the door behind him and leant against it for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. _It's just the withdrawal. That it. You didn't do anything wrong. He's not really mad at you._

"Harry?" Kurt's voice was gentle, and Harry cringed and forced himself to open his eyes. The taller boy was standing on the staircase, eyes wide and worried, and the teen wizard forced himself to smile.

"He's cutting down on his medication, so he's kind of grumpy today," he explained softly, with a one armed shrug. "Withdrawal is a real bitch with these things."

"What's it like?" Kurt asked curiously, following Harry into the kitchen. "I've never..."

"Been addicted to anything?" Harry guessed as Kurt trailed off, a high flush on his cheeks. "Most people haven't. It's awful. You feel sick and weak and shaky, and then you start getting scared and paranoid as the calming effects wear off. I get headaches as well, and I sweat. It's like having a really bad flu."

"It sounds awful," Kurt wrinkled his nose adorably, and jumped up to sit on the counter while Harry looked through the fridge. "Is it worth taking them, if they come with so many risks?"

"Yes," Harry said automatically, but shot Kurt a slightly guilty look. "But to be honest, we don't really take them right. We don't have access to the other stuff we need, so it's medicate or be crazy."

"There has to be something you can do," Kurt pressed, leaning forward on his hands to stare at Harry in concern. Harry shrugged.

"Not so I can think of. We're kind of in hiding over here," he closed the fridge with a sigh and walked back to the bench. He wrote a quick note telling Remus where to find the steaks from the night before, and that there was the number for pizza on the fridge. He helped Kurt hop down from the bench, accepting the kiss on the cheek and the playful, "My hero." with a bow, before wandering up to see what Kurt had chosen for him to wear. _Maybe letting him have free reign was a bad idea._

To his surprise, resting on his bed was a simple white t-shirt, a lilac sweater, and his oldest, softest pair of jeans. A clean pair of sneakers sat next to his bed, white with purple accents, as well as violet socks. He shot Kurt a raised eyebrow, and the boy shrugged, "I was going to pick those divine black skinny jeans and the McQueen sweater with the buckles, but I figured you could probably use comfort over fashion today."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, kissing Kurt to the side of the face and smiling at the boy's put upon sigh. "Now would you wait outside for me to get changed? I don't trust your dad not to know somehow that you were in here while I was naked."

"That's... that's a good point, actually," Kurt muttered as he wandered out of the room. Harry dragged his clothes on as fast as he could manage, ignoring for the sake of his pride the fact that he had so little motor control when tired that he actually punched himself in the face when pulling the sweater on. The clothes were beautifully soft and warm, and for one moment Harry wondered if he'd charmed these ones and forgotten about it. He hadn't; apparently Kurt was just really good at picking out clothes for every occasion. _Never should have doubted him. _The wizard barely remembered to grab his phone and his wallet, just in case, before he stumbled out of his room and right into Kurt. The taller boy just chuckled and put an arm around his shoulders, leading his boyfriend to the Navigator parked sideways across the driveway. Kurt helped Harry clamber in, ignoring the mumbled, "Need a goddamn stepladder," from the smaller teen as he did. The car ride to Kurt's was quiet as Harry dozed in his seat. When they pulled up to the Hudmel residence (Burt and Carole having finally tied the knot the month before), Kurt rushed inside, "To prevent anyone actually seeing the state my hair is in."

Burt was sitting on the couch in the living room when Kurt rushed and Harry wandered in, nodding to both boys and raising his eyebrows at Kurt's rumpled state.

"Hey, dad," Kurt nipped over to the couch to kiss his dad on the cheek. "Thank you for letting me stay home today, this morning was not good for my nerves. Can you keep Harry entertained while I get dressed?"

"Sure, Kurt," Burt agreed, smiling hesitantly at the sleepy wizard hovering in the door. "You must be upset if you left the house in your sweats. Go on up, I'll keep Harry company."

"If you show him baby pictures I'll kill you!" Kurt called cheerfully as he jogged up the stairs. "Or cook nothing but cabbage for a week."

Burt winced and Harry hid a chuckle in a cough. The man shot him a somewhat wry smile and gestured him over, "Come in, kid. Sit down. We've probably got a while if Kurt hasn't even combed his hair yet."

Harry hummed his agreement, shuffling over to sit down next to Burt on the couch. He sunk into the familiar seats with a happy sigh, his stress levels lowering as he did._ Sometimes this feels more like home than my house._ Burt cleared his throat meaningfully, and Harry looked over at him with sleep heavy eyes. The man's face was serious, worried, and for a moment Harry had Mr Schuester flashbacks._ I don't like that look. That look means people are meddling._

"Harry, kid," Burt began, pushing the baseball cap that seemed permanently attached to his head up a bit, then tugging it back down. "Kurt was a little vague about what happened this morning. Can you explain to me exactly what is going on?"

Harry shrugged a little, "He gave you the basic story. I called him this morning and left a weird voicemail, 'cause I was still half asleep. When he got it he came over to my place to check on me. He saw that my pill bottle was empty and thought I'd taken all of them, but I'd just taken the last one in the bottle. It really shook him up."

"Yeah, that's pretty well what he said," Burt nodded slowly, eyeing Harry carefully. "So you only took one?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, holding Burt's gaze. "I'd never even considered killing myself before."

Burt looked at him for a long moment, considering. Harry couldn't help but look down at his hands. Burt's voice was gentler than Harry was used to, and oddly paternal, "You know, kid, Kurt might be a huge drama queen sometimes but he wouldn't jump from 'weird phone call' to 'suicidal' that fast for no reason."

"He only thought that when he saw the empty bottle," Harry protested, but Burt shook his head.

"He ran out of here like a bat out of hell, not wearing shoes and still in his pyjamas," Burt pointed out, and Harry couldn't do anything but concede that point._ That's kind of a big warning sign right there_. "He thought you were gonna hurt yourself, Harry. He really did."

Harry flinched at the worry in Burt's voice, and he muttered to his hands, "I'm not suicidal. I'd never even thought of it before."

There was a long pause, but Burt eventually nodded.

"Okay, I believe you," Burt agreed, and unlike with Mr Schuester, Harry found himself believing it. "So you'd never thought of it before. But what about now? Now that you've got the idea? Does it sound like the sort of thing we should be worrying about for you?"

"No," Harry said quickly, looking back up at Burt. When he saw how unconvinced he looked, he tried to insist. "Really. Kurt made me promise I wouldn't, and I would never do anything to hurt him."

"That's a pretty weak reason, Harry," Burt prodded him, and Harry found himself flinching at the worry in Burt's eyes. "Not hurting yourself because someone else doesn't want you to isn't exactly a great indicator that things are okay for you."

"They're not," Harry's eyes widened as the words slipped out without his permission, and he hurriedly backtracked at Burt's concern. "I mean, I'm okay, but things aren't that great right now. I'm not - I'm not going to hurt myself."

There was a pause as Burt looked into Harry's eyes searchingly, and the teenager tried not to fidget. The worry in Burt's eyes didn't ease much when he went on, his voice even gentler than before, "Mr Schuester called me last night, Harry. Told me some of what went down yesterday."

Harry felt like he'd taken a blow to his chest. He knew his face must have gone pale, and a cold sensation started crawling through his veins. His voice was trembling when he murmured, "He had no right to do that."

Burt nodded slowly, "Maybe not. _Probably _not. But he wanted to make sure that you had somewhere to go if things went South at home. You got a lot of people in your corner right now, kid. We all just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted, trying to force the tears to stay behind his eyes and the shakiness from his voice. "Remus isn't abusing me."

"I don't think he is," Burt gave a slow shrug, holding Harry's watery gaze. "And Will Schuester didn't say he was. But there was some implication that maybe someone _had_, and now maybe you're taking a lack of abuse for kindness."

"He had no right," Harry whispered, rage making the tears dry up and leaving a burning in their place. "He had no right to tell you that."

"He didn't tell me much of anything, kiddo," Burt soothed, clapping a hand down on Harry's shoulder. The boy almost shrugged it off, but somehow it was comforting, a heavy weight that helped him stay centred instead of knocking him off balance. "Just that he was concerned about your home life and that he wanted to make sure I'd be willing to take you in if you needed it. And I would be, kid. In a heartbeat. You mean a hellova lot to Kurt and you're a good kid, you deserve a backup plan at least. The rest of it - that's just what I've seen, Harry. Maybe I'm making assumptions when I shouldn't - God knows that's gotten me in trouble before with you - but I don't think I'm wrong, am I? That you've been abused before."

It wasn't a question, and Harry just shut his eyes. He was tired, so tired, and it was beginning to become too hard to fight. Still, he steeled himself and looked up with hard eyes, "No. Things with my family - my biological family - they were bad. Really bad. But Remus got me out of there. He sacrificed everything to get me away. That's why he's such a mess now. How could I not want to take care of him now? It's fine. I can handle it. You don't..." Harry's mind drifted to his childhood, to the hatred and the pain and the feeling of being totally worthless, then forward to fighting and pressure and... "You don't know how much worse it could be."

"You're right, I don't," Burt nodded, still watching Harry carefully. "I don't have a clue what you've been through. But I know it's a lot, and I know you've been dealing with stuff for a long time, and I know that you shouldn't have to deal with stuff anymore. That's the parent's job."

"I don't have parents," Harry shrugged. He wasn't trying to be dramatic or pitiful; it was just a fact. "Remus is my guardian. His job is to keep social services away from me and sign permission forms, not baby me."

"That's not how it works, Harry" Burt protested, but didn't go on at Harry's blankly resigned look.

"That's how it works for me."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, Harry just staring at Burt blankly and Burt staring back, pity warring with anger and something oddly like fear in his eyes. After a moment, the man sighed and dropped his gaze for a second, rubbing his face with one big hand.

"Just - you can come here if you need to," Burt insisted, his voice resigned but still firm. "Whenever, whatever time of day. I don't care if it's the middle of the night or what. You don't even have to say why if you don't want to. If you think you're in any danger, or you just need to get away, the door is always open to you."

"You're worrying over nothing," Harry protested, shaking his head. "Things aren't great but they're not that bad."

"Just promise me you will," Burt insisted, catching Harry's shoulder again to force the boy to look at him. "Even if you don't think you'll ever need to, promise me you'll come if you do."

"Okay," Harry tried not to sigh. _Two promises in one morning, Merlin. At least it's because they're worried about me and not because they're scared of me or something. Still, I'd rather people just believed me when I said I'm fine. _"I'll come over if I need to. But I won't need to. I can handle it."

"Maybe," Burt sank back against the couch, giving Harry his space again. "But you don't have to."

_I really do._


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I think I might have to stick to a Saturday update schedule, I'm so freaking tired on Fridays I can't get the chapters done. I... cannot think of anything else to say except enjoy the trainwreck that is Harry's life!... so to speak.

* * *

They sat quietly then, Harry actually leaning his head against the armrest and drifting off. When he woke up Burt was gone and Kurt was setting up the DVD player, dressed in a grey kilt with black tights and a white turtleneck. Kurt's stylish grey comforter was on Harry's lap and half tucked around him, loose on his left presumably so Kurt could curl up next to him. When Kurt finally turned around, his face lit up to see Harry's eyes open and on him.

"You're awake! Good, I wanted your opinion on movies," Kurt reached for two DVD cases behind him, turning back to shoot Harry a charming smile. "I figure today will be a good movies-and-cuddling day. So classic Disney Cinderella or eye-candy-Ewan Moulin Rouge?"

"Cinderella," Harry decided after a moment's thought, not lifting his head from the arm of the couch. "I feel like a happy ending."

Kurt giggled, "Never say that sentence to Santana, but okay. Good choice."

"Wait, what?" Harry raised his head a little, frowning with worry. "What did I say?"

Kurt ignored him in favour of putting the DVD in and scurrying back to the couch. The taller boy curled up next to Harry, tugging the more-than-willing wizard into his arms and letting him rest his head against his chest. Harry listened to Kurt's heartbeat for a moment, before insisting, "Seriously, though. What did I say? How is wanting a happy ending dirty? I'm so confused."

"You're so cute," Kurt squeezed Harry a little tighter. "And maybe do ask Santana about it. She seems determined to be your personal sex-ed instructor now."

"You just like comforting me after she's traumatised me, sadist," Harry grumbled, snuggling closer and taking a deep breath of Kurt's body-wash and moisturiser. "I still remember how you grinned when I needed a hug after she demonstrating deep-throating on that banana."

"I like hugging you, so sue me," Kurt pinched Harry's side, making the smaller boy jump a little and make a protesting noise. "Now less bitching, more Disney."

"I can't guarantee I'll stay awake," Harry warned him, already yawning as the opening titles began to roll. Kurt ran long fingers through Harry's hair.

"That's fine, sweetie," Kurt assured him softly as the music rose from the television. "You sleep if you need to. I'll tell you how it ends."

* * *

The movie was over when Harry woke up, and Kurt was gone. He was curled up on the Hudmel's couch, clutching a pillow to his chest and with Kurt's comforter resting over him. He could hear quiet singing coming from the kitchen, so he carefully folded the blanket and padded over to the voice. Kurt was pouring something into a pan at the stove, and the smell of pancakes wafted over to Harry and made his mouth water. The clock over the bench read 11.15 but although he'd only slept for a few hours Harry felt amazing._ If someone could find away to bottle Kurt's presence and sell it as a curative, they'd make millions._

"Good morning again, sleepy head," Kurt greeting the still yawning Harry over his shoulder. "I thought you might be hungry, so I'm making some pancakes. And we don't even have to give ten of them to Finn, since that sucker is at school."

"You sound a little too smug right now," Harry noted dryly, coming up behind Kurt to wrap his arms around the smaller boy's waist and rest his cheek against his shoulder blades. "And I'm actually, starving, yes. I think the last thing I ate was half of your muffin the other morning."

Kurt tutted disapprovingly, turning the pancake over then turning in Harry's arms. He shot the boy a stern look, "You see, that? _That_'s why I worry about you. Not eating for almost 48 hours isn't healthy, honey."

"Well, I slept most of our date day and I was a little busy yesterday," Harry protested, unable to muster up any annoyance at the sight of Kurt's worry. "I mean, yesterday I missed breakfast because I needed to deal with Remus cutting his foot, and lunch because of the jocks, and dinner because Remus had a meltdown in front of Mr Schuester, and I'm trained to go a couple of days without eating anyway. It's no big deal."

There was a pause as Kurt processed Harry's unintentional confession. The wizard winced at Kurt's sad expression and dropped his gaze. _Yeah, that'll calm him down, Potter, just remind him about your freakishly damaging past. That'll make everything better! I'm an idiot._

"Well, we're fixing that now," Kurt began slowly, apparently decided to file that information away for later. He nodded briskly, turning back to his cooking and nodding his head at the fridge. "Go and get some fruit out for me, would you Harry? Maybe chop it up if you're a little more co-ordinated now?"

"How did you know about me punching myself?" Harry protested, then cringed. "Oooh, I bet you were talking about getting into the car, weren't you."

"Yes. What did you do?" there was laughter in Kurt's voice as Harry wandered over to the fridge to grab some fruit. Harry sighed.

"I accidentally punched myself in the face when I was getting dressed," he confessed, rolling his eyes at Kurt's failure to stifle his laughter. "I swear, I'm so freaking unco-ordinated when I'm tired. Usually I can do a cartwheel along a beam while avoiding c-gunfire and juggling three weapons, but make me a little sleepy and suddenly I'm one of the three Stooges."

"Aw, sweetie," Kurt giggled, smiling at Harry as he set up with a cutting board and some fruit on the bench next to the stove. "Point out where, I'll kiss it better."

Harry fixed his best pout to his face and pointed to his left cheek bone, and Kurt leaned over and pressed a big kiss to it. Before he could lean back Harry turned his head and caught his lips in a kiss, playfully nipping at Kurt's bottom lip with his teeth before pulling back. Kurt's face was a little flushed, but his smile was wide as he turned back to the pancakes. They worked in relative silence for a view minutes, the only sound the gentle thunk-thunk-thunk of Harry's knife through the fruit and the sizzle of the pan, with the occasion bar hummed by Kurt. Pretty soon they had a feast of pancakes and fruit and obscene amounts of syrup, and they sat at the kitchen table to feed bites to each other. At one point, when Harry was wiping up a line of syrup that had landed on Kurt's cheek rather than in his mouth, he realised that today he had woken to Kurt's voice, slept in his arms, and made breakfast with him. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal it still felt somehow domestic, and that concept suddenly sounded amazing to Harry.

_Whoa, slow down there, Potter, _he told himself firmly, even as he playfully licked the syrup off his finger with a wink at the still giggling Kurt. _You've been dating for two months this week. It's a bit soon to be thinking about buying curtains. Even though technically you already have bought curtains with him for your room but - I'm getting off track here. It's too soon to be thinking about living together, anyway._

"What are you thinking about?" Kurt asked him, popping a slice of apple into Harry's parted lips. Harry bit off a piece and quickly chewed it, making sure his mouth was clear before responding.

"Curtains," he answered honestly, shrugging at Kurt's raised eyebrow. "It made sense in my head. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I don't really care," Kurt shrugged, scooping up his last berry with his fork and offering it to Harry. "There's a Project Runway marathon this afternoon, but that's not until later. Beside, we're always doing things I like. We should do something you want to do."

"I like doing anything you like doing," Harry protested, quickly pulling the berry into his mouth with his teeth and swallowing it. "Really. I might not understand Project Runway or American Top Models or... the other one with the clothes, but your commentary keeps it entertaining for me, and you're there, so what could be better?"

"You have to have some hobbies other than spoiling me and music," Kurt persisted, picking up their plates and walking over to the sink. He waved away Harry's offer of help, quickly stacking the dishwasher with the used plates and pan, before turning back to pin Harry with a thoughtful look. "What did you used to do with Ron and Hermione in your spare time? When you were 14 and 15, for example?"

Harry paused, thinking about it. Kurt seemed to take his hesitation as something else, and he quickly backtracked, "If you can talk about it, that is-"

"Oh, I can," Harry assured him. He smiled a little and shrugged. "Most of it, anyway. I can't talk about the details of the classes or where the school was and stuff, but I can talk about things like that."

_I'd love to tell you about Seamus somehow setting himself on fire every week in Charms in third year, or about Draco Malfoy: Amazing Bouncing Ferret, but I really can't. I say again; Fuck you, Statute of Secrecy!_

"So what was a day like for you, then?" Kurt asked, his curiosity peeking through his usual hesitance. He sat back down next to Harry, wide eyed and interested, and Harry looked up with a frown, trying to work out what he could say.

"Classes started at 8.30," he began slowly, threading his fingers through Kurt's as he cast his mind back to Hogwarts. "We lived in dorms, separated by houses, age, and gender, so I lived in the... Red House boys dorm with the other boys in my year."

"How many others were there?" Kurt asked, squeezing Harry's hand. Harry smiled a little, thinking of Seamus and Dean and Neville, and how - by some miracle - they had all survived the war. _Hell, Neville's almost as big a hero as anyone. Talk about taking a level in badass. I can't believe I ever thought he was a coward._

"There were four other boys in my year, and five girls. Most years were the same, so it wasn't a very big school, student wise," Harry looked down and his and Kurt's interlocked fingers. "Hermione would burst into the boys' dorm at about 8 to wake Ron and get me. She wasn't allowed in there, but it never stopped her. She knew that I wasn't able to wake Ron and he would just stay in bed if she didn't. We'd go to breakfast after Ron got dressed, and usually have to run to class. The whole school had lunch at one, and classes ended at four."

"That's a long day," Kurt commented, raising his other hand to rest his elbow on the table, leaning his chin on his palm to look at Harry contentedly. Harry shrugged.

"It was pretty intense. It wasn't..." he trailed off, thinking of Potions exploding and Charms going wrong and accidentally Transfiguring a desk... "It wasn't like a normal school. All the kids there... you had to be special."

He said the word like a curse, and Kurt ran a soothing finger across the back of his hand. The wizard sighed and relaxed, "After classes we'd usually just hang out. There weren't TVs or computers or even phones... nothing to connect us to the outside world."

"Really? How did people talk to their par - their families?" Kurt corrected himself mid sentence, wincing at his faux-pas. Harry just smiled at him reassuringly.

"Letters, mostly. We got mail every morning during breakfast. Well, some people did. I rarely did. The Dursleys certainly never wrote me, except occasionally on Christmas or to make sure I wasn't coming back for the holidays."

Kurt remained quiet, but his hand tightened on Harry's. Harry continued with a resigned shrug, "We would just spend time together. Ron and I would put off doing our homework for as long as Hermione would let us, then we'd do it all in one big lump. We played chess, we played cards... The three of us started a defence club, too. I can't really say more about that."

_We also flew around on broomsticks, played Quidditch and Exploding Snap, and ate copious amounts of enchanted lollies. Can't really talk about that either._

"There was usually something going on, too, some big mystery or attack happening," Harry went on with a shrug. "I usually got dragged into it. I never could leave well enough alone if I thought something was happening."

"My little hero," Kurt smiled affectionately, and Harry cringed.

"Hermione told me I had a saving people thing once," he admitted, looking down at his lap. "I don't - it wasn't about wanting to be the hero. I didn't care about that. I just never really trust anyone else to do it. The adults in my life have been pretty useless thus far."

"I was getting that impression, yes," Kurt agreed dryly, squeezing Harry's hand again. When Harry glanced up Kurt leaned forward to press their lips together in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back there was such warmth in his eyes that Harry could have stared for hours. "Thank you for telling me all that, Harry. I get that there are things you can't tell me, and I respect that, but I want to know you."

"You do," Harry whispered, feeling something bright and happy well in his chest as he looked at his boyfriend. "Really. You might not know about my past but you know me. You know me as much as anyone does."

Kurt kissed him again, soft but definite, and they remained like that for a few long moments. Finally, Kurt pulled away with a happy sigh, "Come on. Let's go back to the couch and cuddle. We'll see if we can't find a TV show that appeals to you, Mr Amish boy."

"I'm not Amish, I'm just deprived. Just not MTV. Ron watched it when he was over here, and the jiggling was... disturbing."

"Are you sure you're not just straight-up gay?"

"...No."

* * *

The day was pretty well perfect from that point to when Finn came home. They flicked through TV channels, curled up under Kurt's comforter, cuddling and chuckling at the various shows flicking across the screen. Kurt showed Harry the trashiness of Maury Povich, laughing at the horror on the smaller boy's face as a woman brought in the fourth man for a paternity test for her child, and a re-run of the Hills, which both of them quickly decided was worse than murder. ("It's definitely worse than torture," Harry had cringed, wincing at the outraged shriek of the blonde woman on screen. "Much worse. I can confirm it.")

They sat curled up against one another and talked about nothing. Kurt had made them grilled cheese for lunch and let Harry doze off on his shoulder afterwards, waving off the smaller boy's apology for drooling on his sweater. ("It's wool, Harry. A little saliva will wash right out.")

Both Burt and Carole were going to be at work until after five, so it didn't surprise the two boys when Finn was the first home. Kurt waved at his brother vaguely, eyes glued to Project Runway, and Harry smiled up at the taller boy. The wizard felt a hint of uneasiness creep through the warmth in his bones as Finn dropped his gaze, unable to look Harry in the eye.

"Hey, Harry. I didn't know you were here," the tall boy muttered. Harry shrugged and lowered his gaze, Finn's awkwardness transmitting quite clearly.

"Burt said I could spend the day here, since Kurt didn't have to go to school either," he murmured, tracing a line on the arm of the couch as Kurt finally turned around, looking between Harry and Finn with a frown.

"Something wrong, Frankenteen?" the flamboyant boy snapped, tugging Harry a little closer to his side. Finn jumped a little at his fierce tone, but took a deep breath and spoke.

"Kurt, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute? Alone?" Harry stiffened at Finn's surprisingly firm words, and Kurt narrowed his eyes. After a long moment, Kurt nodded once, reluctantly dragging himself away from Harry's side to stand. He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead as he rose, and Harry tried not to show how anxiety had began to flood in his veins. He watched the step-brothers walk to the kitchen, wrestling with himself.

_Did I do something to upset Finn? He's upset at me, there's no question. Maybe it's something else, maybe he's having a problem with Rachel and wanted to tell his brother about it. Maybe there's a problem at school -_

Harry had almost convinced himself that he was imagining Finn's coldness towards him and that his talk with Kurt was about something else when the shouting started. The step-brothers' voices cut through the door separating the kitchen and the living room and into Harry's ears, and the wizard sunk down in his seat.

"-sprained Azimio's shoulder, for startling him! That's not a normal reaction, Kurt-" Finn's voice was torn between frantic and furious, and Harry's blood ran cold. _Sprained? Fuck, he's a football player, that could ruin his season._

"He is not dangerous, Finn! Or at least he isn't to _me._ He would never hurt me-" Kurt was all-out enraged, his voice rising shrilly, and Harry flinched._ But I _am _dangerous. I actually injured someone the other day._

"He pushed Mr Schue over afterwards-"

"Well unlike Mr Schue, I know better than to touch a person having an anxiety attack unexpectedly."

"You're not listening to me, Kurt! I like Harry too, I do. But he isn't safe to be around. What if the next person to grab him when he's edgy is you, huh? I don't care that Azimio got hurt either, but it could be one of us next time."

Harry flinched at that, curling up in his seat. His mind flew to the day before yesterday, to feeling the bones in Azimio's arms creak under his hands, strained almost to the point of breaking. Then he pictured Kurt in Azimio's place, wide glasz eyes looking at him fearfully from a pale, frightened face.

_I wouldn't do that,_ he thought to himself firmly as the argument continued._ I would never hurt him. Not - not intentionally. But could I do it unintentionally? I didn't mean to hurt Azimio either._

The wizard shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears as his magic reacted to his growing anxiety by heightening his senses. The shouting became so loud it was deafening him, Finn's insistence of the danger he posed and Kurt's loyal rebuttals.

"-could actually break-"

"-would never-"

"-out of the team for god knows how long-"

"-Harry's your friend, Finn! Have a little-"

"-you're not listening to me!"

Harry squeezed his eyes tighter, and curled up in a ball. The words circling in his head (dangerous, monster, murderer) got louder, mixing with the shouts of the step-brothers in the next room. He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. It felt like pressure was building up behind his eyes, matching the noise inside and outside of him note for note, when suddenly he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up, expecting Kurt or Finn or even Burt or Carole, but it wasn't. It was Remus.

"Harry?" the werewolf looked concerned, and far less grumpy than his morning. Harry looked around in confusion. He wasn't in the Hudmel's living room anymore; he was curled up on Remus' bed in his house.

_Oh fuck, I Apparated._

"Shit," Harry swore, forcing his cramping legs down and shuffling over to the side of the bed. "Fuck!"

"What's wrong? When did you get back from Kurt's?" Remus asked, automatically straightening the sheets Harry had rumpled. Harry ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"I just unconsciously Apparated out of Kurt's house," Harry rushed out, scrambling through his pocket's for his phone. Remus' eyes widened.

"Was anyone in the room?" he urged his ward, running around the side of the bed to get to Harry. Harry shook his head, debating whether to call Kurt or not. _No, then he'll know something is up. Wait until he calls me, see what he saw._

"He and Finn were in the next room. They would have heard it, but I'm not too loud when I Apparate so maybe they didn't notice," he chewed on his lower lip, looking over his shoulder at Remus when he felt a hand on his arm. The werewolf's eyes were still wide and his face pale, but he seemed more or less in control.

"What happened?" Remus urged him again, more quietly. Harry paused, staring into his eyes for a moment, then sighed.

"They were arguing about whether I was dangerous or not," he admitted quietly, looking down at his phone. Remus sighed a little and carefully patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you heard that, Harry," he said sincerely, sounding so much like the Remus who had taken him out of England that tears started prickling in Harry's eyes. "You're not dangerous. Your magic will warn you if you're about to hurt the wrong person. They don't know that."

"I knocked Mr Schuester over the other day," Harry countered, his hand tightening on his phone until the plastic creaked. Remus paused.

"Was he hurt?" the werewolf asked carefully, and Harry shook his head.

"It just knocked him down. He was crouching and I just..." Harry swung his arm out to show what he had done, and Remus nodded.

"You knocked him off balance. That isn't hurting him, that's an accident," the guardian soothed, and Harry leaned into the hand on his shoulder. Remus hesitated again, thinking hard. "When Mr Schuester was over here the other day, with the red-haired woman-"

"Ms Pillsbury," Harry informed him, thinking back to that conversation with a wince. Remus nodded.

"Right. I don't - I don't really remember the conversation that well. Did they want to talk about - that? About you pushing him?"

"No," Harry told him slowly, debating whether he should tell him. _Well, he's all right right now, and I should wait for Kurt to call me, so it's probably best to warn him now. _"They, ah. Were concerned about my... home situation."

Remus paused, and Harry looked up at him with a tense expression. Remus looked down at him with a troubled frown, "In what way? They don't think I'm hurting you, do they?"

"No," Harry assured him, not entirely sure that was true. _Mr Schuester seems suspicious enough._ "They're just worried that - you were _high _when you answered the phone, Remus, and then yesterday when Mr Schue came over he heard you say that our drugs were restricted... they think that I'm a kid, so, you know, it doesn't look good for a kid to be going home to a stoned guardian. "

"You _are _a kid," Remus murmured, his frown increasing. Harry just shrugged.

"Maybe, but I'm used to taking care of myself," Harry paused at the stricken look on Remus' face and rushed to reassure him. "Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. You've been the best guardian I ever had, Moony. You're just - you're having some trouble coping. That's okay, I can handle it. You shouldn't have to worry about me."

If anything, Remus looked even more upset. Harry frowned, frantically trying to work out what he was saying wrong. _He knows he's having trouble coping, so he can't be offended by that. Does he not think I can handle it?_

Before Harry could find the words, his phone started ringing, Lady Gaga trilling out over the tiny speaker. He glanced at it, noting the picture of Kurt that had sprung onto the screen, and shot Remus an apologetic look as he raised it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Harry, where are you?" Kurt sounded breathless, and Harry could hear sounds in the background that made it sound like Kurt was outside. Harry sighed.

"I'm - walking home, Kurt," he lied, sharing a calculating glance with Remus. "I could hear you and Finn fighting and it sounded like you could use privacy, so..."

"When did you leave? I can't see you on the street," Kurt demanded, sounding a little confused. Harry winced, wishing he knew if Kurt had heard him Apparate or not. He thought quickly.

"About five minutes ago, I think?" he guessed, trying to calculate where he would be if he'd walked for five minutes from Kurt's place. _Near the park, maybe? Maybe if I was running... pretty close to Tina's house, I think. Here's to hoping he doesn't ask._There was a pause, before Kurt's confused voice continued.

"So you didn't slam the door about two minutes ago?"

"No," Harry said honestly, wincing a little. _At least they thought it was that and not me shooting myself or something._"I've been walking for a while. Why?"

"We just heard something... I'll have to check that nothing is stolen," Kurt muttered, then went on. "I'm sorry you heard us fighting, Harry, but you didn't have to leave."

"I really did," Harry murmured, looking down at his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus sit down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hand, and it distracted him enough that he didn't think before going on, "I could hear what you were saying."

There was a longer pause and Harry rolled his eyes at himself. _You are the smoothest man to ever live, Potter. Really. _He quickly corrected himself in the horrified silence, "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, I just have really good hearing."

"Harry, Finn doesn't really think you're dangerous-" Kurt insisted, his voice high and frantic, but Harry just sighed.

"Yeah, he does. And he's half-right. I am dangerous, Kurt, just not to you. I would never, ever hurt you, and if through some accident I did I would never forgive myself."

"I don't believe that. That you're dangerous, I mean," Kurt insisted stubbornly. Harry could almost see the way he would be clenching his jaw, and smiled. Kurt went on more quietly. "You have the skills, but you're not crazy. You're just jumpy. Azimio attacked you and you defended yourself. Was it too far? Sure. But you know that and now you're going to be aware of that. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Thanks, love," Harry sat down on the edge of Remus' bed, glad that his unconscious use of magic hadn't gotten him into too much trouble and that Kurt, at least, still believed in him._ Even if I don't really believe in myself._"I should go now. Still got a ways to walk."

"I can come and pick you up, you don't have to go," Kurt sounded kind of disappointed, and Harry winced.

"Sorry, Kurt, I really should get back to Remus, and Finn would probably like some space from me right now. I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?" the wizard looked at his feet at the sigh Kurt failed to repress, and felt burning guilt in his chest as Kurt responded.

"Sure, sweetie. See you then. Get some sleep," the line went dead in Harry's ear, and he lowered the phone with a grimace. He glanced over his shoulder at Remus to find the man staring back at him with conflicted eyes. He tried to smile.

"I can cook a proper dinner, since I'm going to be home," Harry forced a cheery air into his words, getting to his feet with all the energy he could muster. Even though he had had more than enough sleep to make up for the previous day, knowing that his friends were frightened of him and that his magic was beginning to react without his permission was exhausting. Remus nodded slowly.

"If you like," the werewolf looked down at his hands, then up at the clock. "It's nearly four - can we do that soon? I want to be in the basement at five."

"Sure, I'll go start now," Harry assured him, forcing himself not to drag his feet as he left the room. "Come down in about half an hour, yeah?"

He heard the soft affirmative as he closed the door behind him, letting his head and shoulders droop forward as he wandered down the stairs. _So my friends think I'm dangerous - they _know _I'm dangerous - the whole school knows about what I did to Azimio by now, my boyfriend is making friends with a much more attractive and far less fucked up than me gay boy, Remus is a nutcase, Mr Schue and Burt Hummel are meddling, and I'm pretty sure I've developed a tolerance to Calming Draughts. This... has not been my best week ever._

He jumped onto the bench and pulled out his wand, too drained to cook the muggle way, and quickly charmed the ingredients he needed with a spell. It didn't work so well.

Before the wizard knew what was happening, the chicken was being mashed in a bowl instead of the potatoes, the tomatoes were smashing against the door of the oven, and one of the potatoes started eating another.

_What._

Harry jumped off the bench and sent another set of charms around. The Scourgify worked on the oven door, but the spell that should have de-animated the potato just made it larger. The pieces of chicken began trying to escape from the bowl, and his attempt to end the charm just seemed to make them angry.

"Uh, Remus?" he called out uncertainly, holding his wand out in front of him._ What the fuck just happened?_ He pointed his wand at the animated potato. "Finite Incantatem."

It froze mid-bite, leaving only a tiny morsel of the other potato in existence. _I'm... not going to think about how that worked. _He turned to face the bowl of chicken pieces. Quite luckily, they were failing to escape up the sides of the glass bowl, and instead were just hissing at him angrily. Harry raised his wand again.

"Finite Incantatem," he repeated. Again, it only made the pieces writhe more and the hissing to get louder. They seemed to be learning, too, climbing on top of one another to reach the end of the bowl. _Oh shit._

"Remus! Little help down here!" Harry shouted up the stairs, helplessly placing a larger bowl over the top of the chicken bowl so they couldn't actually climb out._ It would be just my luck for them to escape and start taking over Ohio. How the hell did this even happen?_

"Remus? Can you come downstairs, please?" Harry tried again, before shooting the still fighting food one final nervous look and shooting up the stairs. He opened the door to Remus' room without knocking, already talking. "Remus, I accidentally animated dinner somehow-"

Harry cut himself off with a frustrated sigh when he saw Remus asleep on top of his covers, two empty vials on the bed next to him. The teenager stomped over and snatched them up, throwing them into the bin over the other side of the room. He grabbed Remus' shoulder and shook him a little, "Remus, wake up. I need your help."

"Wha'?" Remus mumbled, his eyes half sliding open. Harry went on, still holding his shoulder tightly.

"I need your help. I just accidentally animated stuff and I can't make it stop," Harry tried, growling a little in frustration when Remus tried to fall back asleep. "Remus, please. I don't know what to do."

"Jus' de-animate it," the werewolf muttered, pushing Harry away. Even half asleep he still had super human strength, and Harry had to grab onto his arm to stop himself from falling off the bed. "Finite Incantatatar."

"It's... it's Incantatem, and I've tried that," Harry insisted, shaking his head despairingly as Remus just rolled back over.

"Dun worry about dinner," Remus slurred into the pillow, waving Harry away. "'m not hungry anyway."

"Fine, I won't, but what do I do about-" Harry cut himself off when Remus started snoring into his pillow. The teenager felt frustrated tears stinging behind his eyes and he sat down heavily on the side of Remus' bed. He was debating whether or not to wake the werewolf for one last attempt at advice when he heard glass smashing in the kitchen. _Fuck._

He rushed back downstairs. Sure enough, the animated meat was crawling out of the smashed bowl on the tiled floor and crawling all over the kitchen. Harry's wand was in his hand in an instant, and he made one last attempt,

"Finite Magus!"

It was a desperate move, a somewhat dangerous move, nulling all magic within the kitchen. It made a few pictures fall as their Sticking Charms faded, and he'd have to reset the refrigerator, but the chicken pieces slumped to the floor with quiet plops. _And now I don't have to worry about my animated dinner taking over Ohio. Rock. I think I can deal with a few bent photo frames._

He quickly cleaned the kitchen the muggle way, not trusting his magic, and went around the house to seal the windows and doors, as he did every full moon. As soon as he was done he dragged himself into the living room to slump on the couch. He hadn't eaten dinner, but decided against cooking anything else; he wasn't really hungry. _Also, I may never eat chicken again._

He saw Remus dragging himself down to the basement shortly after, the werewolf bleary eyed but still awake enough to remember to lock the door, if the click Harry could hear was any indication. The basement was set up so that Remus had a comfortable, soundproof place to turn and no muggles could get in, but because Remus had access to Wolfsbane Potion his transformations were fairly untraumatic for both of them. He'd probably sleep through most of the night after the initial painful transformation at dusk, curled up on the soft mattress he and Harry had placed there.

Sleeping through the night sounds like a really good idea right now, Harry yawned and pulled himself up off of the couch. _Merlin, I've done nothing but sleep for 24 hours and I still want more. I'm turning into an old man. Still, if I want to go to school tomorrow - which I should before Mr Schuester sends out a search party - I'd better go to bed. At 5 pm._

Harry sighed as he clambered up the stairs. When he got to his room he just pulled off his sweater and kicked off his shoes, scrambling under the sheets half heartedly, still in the soft jeans and t-shirt Kurt had picked out for him so many hours ago. His brain was buzzing uncomfortably, supplying him with an unending cycle of memories, Azimio screaming as his bones creaked under Harry's hand (_he's just a stupid boy, he didn't deserve to be hurt_), Finn's suspicion and fear as he begged Kurt to be safe (_safe from me, safe from the monster who hurts people without meaning to_), whispers down the corridors of Hogwarts in his second year when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin mixed up with the whispers from MicKinley (_fuck, I'm never going to escape it, am I? Because I'm dangerous, I'm __**dangerous**_), Voldermort's eyes turning to blue right before he died (_he died with my blade in his chest, died because of me, murderer, **murderer**_) and the wizard was crying before he knew what was happening. Not a lot, just a trickle of tears down the side of his face, and he rolled over to bury his face in his pillow. He reached over to the bedside drawer and pulled out a Calming Draught, swallowing it down and squeezing his eyes shut against the tears pushing against his eyelids. He focused on the feeling of the soft cloth over him, on the silence of the house, on the warmth of his bed; anything to block out the noise in his brain. He latched on to the artificial calm of the Draught, clinging to it and forcing himself to slip into sleep. He knew he'd dream, knew he'd wake up tired, but it was worth it to get away from his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N:Holy fishsticks this story is hard work. I am seriously struggling to get any decent work done on it at all. Still, this chapter is a long (and hard) one - wait, that sounded bad. There's an action sequence in it that I'm not totally happy with, it feels really rushed but there's so much else going on I wasn't sure whether I should drag it out. Hopefully the rest of the chapter makes up for its crappyness.

* * *

_He was drowning. His cupboard was filling with black liquid and he was drowning and he every time he tried to speak a spell or call for help he was pushed back down, choking, spluttering, his chest burning -_

Harry dodged the first blow still asleep, the feeling of his body shifting out of bed and across the room waking him. He was only semi-conscious by the time his brain registered that he was under attack, that someone, something, was in his room and trying to kill him, and he stumbled out of the way. A second blow struck him at an angle, the rough force hitting his side and sending him crashing into his desk. Eyes still shut, he threw up a Shield, forcing his attacker away as he finally snapped into real consciousness, his wand flying into his hand, curse on his lips, ready to defend himself from -

_Remus_.

The wolf stood before him on all fours, the twisted figure of half man, half wolf. He'd know the sight anywhere, the rough, grey and black fur, the scarred flesh in bald patches, long snout, sharp teeth... He'd seen Moony in wolf-form before, several times, but not like this. Not snarling and drooling like a rapid dog, claws extended and teeth bared in a snarl. The pain in Harry's sides and face faded as battle-readiness sunk in, his magic rising and his heart racing. He managed to get out half a thought before the wolf attacked again.

_Wolfsbane, he forgot to take his Wolfsba-_

Harry ducked and rolled out of the way, his magic giving him an extra split second to react and allowing him to dodge the wolf's claws. He shot off a quick, "Stupefy!" knowing it wouldn't knock a werewolf out, but hoping it would make it hesitate. It worked, the bright light and uncomfortable rush of the spell making the wolf flinch back, and Harry used that moment to dive over his bed and catch himself on his hands, springing off his palms and out the door, charming it shut behind him.

He had a moment to catch his breath as the wolf in his room howled and bashed at the sealed door. The wood splintered under the inhumanly strong paws of the wolf, and Harry planned.

_Only room that will hold him is the basement, got to get him there without getting killed. Most spells too weak to stun wolf, and can't risk killing him by cursing him. Got to stay on him, can't let him escape house. In pain, bleeding - not life threatening. Once he's broken through the door - ten, nine, eight - run to basement, make sure he follows - seven, six, five - work it out from there - four, three, two, one-_

The door shattered and Harry started running. He could feel the wolf right behind him, only barely managing to avoid claws with the help of magically enhanced speed and reflexes. He tore through the house, pushing things over to slow the wolf down as he rushed to the basement. Several times the wolf managed to swipe at him, sending him crashing against walls and shattering furniture, but Harry just forced him away with a surge of unfocused magic and kept running. He dodged and ducked, swearing when his magic failed to shove Remus back like it should have, sweat pouring down his face like a flood with every increasingly shaky step he took. When he finally reached the basement he jumped nearly clean down the stairs into the dark room, barely noticing the torn up walls and shredded furniture as he turned to throw up a Shield Charm. The wolf was growling and snarling behind him, lashing at the golden shield around the boy and making Harry grit his teeth as it sapped at his energy.

_Throw Shield out, knock him down. Only has to fall for long enough for me to reach the top of the stairs. May exhaust me, one shot at this, three, two, one-_

Harry forced the Shield out of his wand, knocking the werewolf back with it. He sprinted back to the staircase, letting his magic boost him up the stairs and out the door. The wolf was right on his heels, and when Harry slammed the door shut he heard it smash against the wolf's snout. The teenager sealed the door with what felt like the last of his magic, shouting a charm that would only allow Remus to exit when he was in human form again.

It was three minutes since Harry had been woken up by the wolf's attack, and finally the world rushed back to the boy. His magical awareness receded, his heart rate began to slow, and he lowered his wand cautiously. Pain started seeping back into his consciousness, in his sides, his head, his face, and he noticed blood dripping down his chin to stain his shirt.

_Fuck._

Harry collapsed back against the wall opposite the basement door, staring at it blankly as the last few minutes began to process._ Remus attacked me. Actually, honest-to-God attacked me. He could have killed me if I wasn't trained for it. He would have killed anyone else who was staying here. Fuck, what if he got out? He could have attacked our neighbours..._

Harry jumped to his feet and rushed to the front door, sighing in relief when he saw it was still sealed. He noted claw marks in the walls of the hallway, and when he went to check the windows in the living room he found the couches overturned. Every room he went into added to the growing rage in his chest, a burning fury that made him clench his fists and stalk more fiercely with every cracked wall and torn piece of furniture.

_Goddamn it, with my magic being as unpredictable as it is right now I'm going to have to fix most of this the muggle way. How the hell could he be so irresponsible as to not take his Wolfsbane? Didn't he learn his lesson in my third year? He could have killed me. And now I'm going to have to stay up for the rest of the night - which, granted, is only a couple of hours - to fix this mess before I go to school. And fuck, school! I have to leave in four hours if I want to get there in time for Glee, goddamn morning rehearsals. This is just fucking perfect._

Harry stalked upstairs to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to snatch up a Pain Relieving potion and sculling it, throwing the empty vial into the bin and slamming the cabinet shut. He avoided looking at his face as he always did, just splashing water onto his face to wake himself up and wash away the blood from his split lip. He glared at the red-tinged water slipping down the drain, clutching at the edge of the sink with white knuckled hands.

_Okay. I have about three, four hours to get the house to some level of order in case of visitors. I have to make sure there is no major structural damage. I have to make sure Remus hasn't alerted the neighbours to strange happenings, or alerted the American Wizarding Police that there is an unregistered werewolf in a muggle neighbourhood in Ohio. Oh, and I should probably do the homework I was too tired to do yesterday. Goody._

He stomped out of the bathroom, sighing a little when the potion sunk in and the pain started fading. _At least I'm not going to ache while I deal with this._

He started in the entryway, cleaning up broken glass from photo frames and putting the rug back into place. There wasn't much he could do about the cracks in the walls or the tears in paint, but he vacuumed and swept up the broken side table, and put the shredded coats that had been hanging on the coat rack in the laundry to be fixed later, when his magic was working right again. He worked his way through the house steadily, righting over-turned tables and chairs, having to struggle with the couches for several minutes before giving them up as too heavy for him alone to move, and swept and vacuumed up broken glass. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, pressed against his every movement, making him stumble and struggle occasionally, but he ignored the steadily growing ache in his face and side and just did what needed doing. By the time sunlight was peeking through the curtains and Remus would be changing back most of the house was back in order; at least, all that could be done without magic. Harry sighed when he heard the basement door open, prodding at the broken TV with his foot. The rage he'd felt at his guardian's irresponsibility was still there, just under the surface, and he could only hope to get through the conversation without resorting to shouting.

He heard the frantic footsteps go upstairs, Remus shouting desperately, "Harry! Harry, where are you?"

"I'd down here," he called half-heartedly, not turning to face the doorway just yet. He could hear the footsteps stop on the steps and turn, rushing towards his voice. He put his hands on his hips, idly wondering what Remus would do all day now that the TV was out of commission as the werewolf approached the living room.

He heard the man stop in the doorway, taking in the destruction he'd wrought, and Harry clenched his fists.

"I'm sorry," Remus finally muttered, his voice weak and shaky. Harry huffed and dug his nails into his palms.

"I told you," the teenager ground out, squeezing his eyes shut against the rage burning in his chest. "I _told _you that taking so many Droughts would get us in trouble."

"I know," Remus's voice was hoarse, pleading, but the throbbing in Harry's side kept his anger alive. "I know, Harry, you were right. I just - I just forgot-"

Harry whirled around, fixing the pale man with a hard glare, barely registering the look of shock that passed the man's face when he caught sight of Harry's, "You _forgot_? You _forgot _that you're actually _deadly _without your Wolfsbane? You forgot that we're in a muggle neighbourhood where no one could defend themselves from you if you got out? You forgot that I was sleeping upstairs? What if I hadn't moved in time, Remus? What if I had been anyone else? I would have been _dead_."

"Harry-" Remus began, his eyes wide and horrified, but frustration was pouring out of Harry, the stress that had been haunting him before he'd fallen asleep the night before was centring on the target in front of him. He cut his guardian off.

"On top of this, you've completely trashed the entire house. My magic isn't working right for some reason - it's damn lucky I was able to fight you off - so I can't fix it - and thanks _so much_for your help last night, by the way - but I know I have to because you're too fucking useless to actually take responsibility and do it!"

Remus flinched back, and Harry took a step forward.

"What the hell happened, Remus? Because you were coping fine when we got here! I actually felt like I had a father for the first time. I actually felt like maybe, just maybe, I could be a child for the only time in my life. But no. You just had to keep upping your dosage until once again, I had to step up. You know what? I'm fucking sick and tired of having to step up and do the right thing because the adults in my life, the people who are actually meant to be dealing with all this shit, decide that they can't be bothered!"

"Harry, it's not that, I just get so anxious-" Remus tried to interject, but Harry silenced him with a humourless laugh.

"Bullshit. You weren't anxious last night when you overdosed, Remus. Remember? You weren't scared or panicky. You felt guilty because you knew you'd dropped the ball and you couldn't grow up and handle it, so you took your drugs and left me on my own to handle something that I shouldn't have had to," Harry's fists were clenched so hard at his side he was sure he was breaking the skin, but he didn't stop. "It seems like I keep having to do things I shouldn't have to because of you. I shouldn't have to lie to my friends and teachers about my home life. I shouldn't have to take care of you like you're a goddamn toddler. And I shouldn't have to keep making excuses for why you've regressed to childhood right when you needed to grow up."

Harry cut himself off with a disgusted sigh as Remus broke down in front of him, sobbing weakly into his hands and shivering from head to foot.

A small part of him noted that while usually his magic would be going haywire if he was this angry, right now there was no hint of it; not a flicker, not a spark, nothing. That part of him was soon quietened by Harry's rage over taking him again, and his voice became louder, "You had one thing I needed you to do, Remus. One thing! Just remember to take the potion that you have been doing three times a month for the last Merlin knows how many years. I didn't need you to be an adult. I didn't need you to actually put any effort into something. I just needed you to not try and kill me and you couldn't even do that!"

Remus was shrinking into himself with every shout, and Harry just kept moving forward. The tears in the man's eyes just fuelled the fire, and Harry found himself standing in front of Remus with his hands clenched in shaking fists at his sides, chest heaving, lips curled back into a snarl. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, managing to force his rage down for long enough to say, "I need to leave for school in an hour. Between now and then, I need to shower, do my homework, and get ready. Please try not to destroy anything else while I'm gone."

Harry stalked out of the room, ignoring Remus's weak sob as he stomped up stairs. He showered in about two minutes, scrubbing down over the soreness in his body none-too-gently in frustration. The heat helped a little, but Harry still winced when he bumped into his cracked desk on the way to his wardrobe. He threw on the first clothes he grabbed, not even bothering to wonder if Kurt would approve, and began to gather up the homework that had been scattered off his desk last night. Some things were torn - a couple were even blood stained - but he piled them on his desk anyway, picking up his chair from where it had been tipped over and attempting to get to work.

_Right, so I have 30 math problems, two pages of Spanish translation, I need to read two chapters for history, and write a proposal for a project for Literature. Mr Schue will understand if I need another to finish those, I can read the chapters after Glee, and the teacher probably won't notice if I don't hand in my proposal. Maths it is._

Harry eventually found his calculator on the carpet under his bed. The screen was cracked but it was still working, so the wizard started making his way through the math problems, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice that the liquid paper on both sides of the worksheets were covering blood drops. _That can't be hygienic, but what else can I do?_

He finished the problems as fast as he could, rushing through the last couple as the minutes dragged on, and by the time he'd faked the last question - _it doesn't matter if it's right, as long as it's done_- he discovered he should have left ten minutes ago.

"Fuck," he muttered, sweeping his books off his desk and shoving them into his bag, wincing when he heard paper scrunching. He ran a brush through his hair a couple of times before he ran out the door, pointedly ignoring the still trashed house and Remus's shut bedroom door as he ran to his car, jumping in and peeling out of the driveway as fast as he could. He cursed again when he saw the clock in his car - he was probably going to be the last one in. _Here's to hoping they don't hide behind things when I walk in._

He pulled into the car park at McKinley ten minutes after Glee rehearsals had started. With Regionals being only 16 days away, things were getting more intense. He could only hope his being late didn't further cement the club's less than stellar view of him. He could hear the club's vocal warm ups from down the hall and broke into a job, rummaging through his bag with one hand to tug out his rumpled sheet music. _Guess it's now or never._

He slipped in as quietly and unobtrusively as he could, but most of the club still glanced over. He shot Mr Schuester an apologetic look as the warm up paused and the teacher looked over to him with a frown.

"Sorry I'm late," he attempted to smile, even though it would be hard for them to see behind his veil of hair. He thought about trying to explain his tardiness, but quickly dismissed it. _How do you explain, 'my guardian turned into a wolf and tried to kill me, trashing the house in the process' in a muggle-friendly way?_Mr Schuester's frown didn't lesson, and Harry cringed at the man's hard tone.

"Try not to let it happen again, Harry," the teacher, nodded him towards the group, and the wizard scurried over, slipping next to Tina at the end. "We need to focus with Regionals being so close."

"Sorry," he muttered again, trying to shoot a smile to Tina. To his dismay, she glanced away, shifting her weight so she was closer to Mercedes on her other side. The wizard glanced around the group, noting that Mercedes, Artie, and Mike all avoided his eyes, Rachel, Quinn and Puck looked at him with curious worry, and Finn actually glared at him. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach; the fear, the curiosity, the anger... it was like being back in the Wizarding World. Only Kurt, Santana, Brittany and Sam looked at him normally, sending him smiles and waves of greeting and soothing his hurt just a little. He focused his attention back on the teacher, trying to ignore the worry the man hid behind sternness.

"All right, we'll run through that one once more, then we'll start going through choreography," Mr Schuester nodded to the pianist, and the scales started up again. Harry followed along quietly, eyes on his feet lest he accidentally catch Tina's eye and see fear. It was all going fine for a few minutes, until the scales ended and Mr Schuester clapped his hands. "Okay, everyone get into position for the Duran Duran number. Finn, try not to trip on Artie this time. Harry, could you get your hair off your face? You're muffled. Brittany, please put down the watermelon."

Harry ran his hands through his hair without thinking, brushing it aside like he usually did for Glee. It wasn't until Rachel took one look at him and shrieked that he remembered why he hadn't in the first place.

_Oh, right. Hitting the desk probably bruised me. Maybe I should rethink my stance on mirrors on days when I'm injured._

"Oh my God, Harry, what happened?" the diva's hands had flown up to her mouth, and all the Gleeks turned to see what had made her scream. There were several gasps as the club members caught sight of Harry's unobscured face, with both Puck and Artie swearing quite fiercely and Santana grabbing Brittany's hand. The wizard felt his face heat up a little and tried to laugh.

"Oh, right. That. I - tripped last night and hit my face on my desk. How bad is it? I didn't look in a mirror," he attempted to sound light-hearted, but he couldn't help but cringe when Kurt stormed over to him, tilting his head up so his face was in the light. "Ow! Be careful, love, that's sore."

"Harry, your whole face is black and blue," Kurt's voice was trembling, but his eyes were narrowed in anger. "You can't have tripped and hit both sides of your face."

"Is it?" Harry furrowed his brow a little, trying to remember how he'd fallen when he'd been struck. _I thought I only hit the right side of my face against the desk? I must have taken another blow without realising. It did happen pretty fast._"I hadn't noticed. The left can't be too bad, surely? It doesn't hurt much."

"It's bad enough," Kurt said curtly, still eyeing Harry's face critically. Harry glanced to the side, not wanting to watch his boyfriend map out his bruises. He could see Rachel clinging to a guilty looking Finn's arm and hissing in his ear, and various gleeks exchanging worried looks and whispers. He jumped a little when he felt a third hand on his arm, looking back over to see Mr Schuester standing on his other side. The man's eyes were wide and his face was pale as he took in the injuries on his student, and he pursed his lips.

"This didn't happen in a fall, Harry," the teacher said flatly, attempting to manoeuvre Kurt out of the way to get a better look. "Like Kurt said, if you tripped and hit your face it wouldn't be on both sides. And this is really deep, Harry, and your lip is split in two places... you need to go to a doctor."

"No I don't, it's just a bruise," Harry protested, pulling back away from both of them. He glanced around the room again, dropping his eyes when he saw how many gleeks were looking at him with morbid fascination. Quinn looked ready to run over and hug him, as did Rachel, and both Sam and Puck looked furious. Finn and Artie were exchanging guilty looks, and Santana was trying to sooth a confused Brittany. Mercedes, Mike and Tina just huddled together, staring at him wide eyed as he tried not to panic. "Look, I'm really fine, see? It's just a little bruising. I've had worse."

To Harry's horror, Kurt actually let out a little sob, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling to stave off tears, "I'm I really meant to believe that you fell after how angry Remus was yesterday morning? How he shouted at you over nothing?"

"That was different," Harry protested, shaking his head violently then wincing when pain shot through his head. "Ow. But he was withdrawing then. He wasn't last night, he took his meds and went to bed. He didn't even eat dinner."

_Instead he almost ate me. And dinner almost ate me. And dinner ate itself. Last night was a weird night all around, actually._

Mr Schuester looked utterly unconvinced, and he and Kurt shared a look that made Harry wince, "Can we please just do the choreography? Like you said, Regionals is soon and we need to practice."

The teacher saw the bruised student glance over at the still staring group and sighed, "We'll talk about this later, Harry. For now, yes. Let's get back to work."

"Mr Schue-" Kurt protested, but the teacher silenced him with a soft,

"Don't you think this would be a better conversation to have in private?"

Kurt shut his mouth with a snap and paused, finally nodding reluctantly, "Can I at least go and grab him some ice from the nurse's office?"

"Good idea," Mr Schue agreed softly, before stepping around Kurt to get between the boyfriends and the rest of the group. "Okay, guys, from the top!"

"I don't really need ice," Harry tried to insist, but Kurt waved him away with a scowl.

"Shut up. I'm mad at you," the taller boy hissed, shooting a glance at the back of Mr Schue's head before leaning in to add. "I know you're lying to me about falling, Harry. Even when you're tired your reflexes are too fast to let yourself fall. Didn't you once tell me you can defend yourself from attack in your sleep? How am I meant to believe you fell hard enough to do that to yourself?"

"I did fall," Harry insisted, glancing over at the now moving group, mentally thanking Mr Schuester for distracting them so Harry and Kurt could talk. "I just..."

He finally looked Kurt in the eye, his stomach churning when he saw the worry and anger and hurt in Kurt's beautiful eyes. _Didn't I tell myself I would never lie to him unless I legally had to? This doesn't count._He took a deep breath.

"I hit my face against my desk, Kurt, I really did, I just... had some assistance getting there," he admitted softly, dropping his eyes again. Kurt's breath caught and Harry rushed to reassure him. "It's not that bad, and it was an accident. He was just - there was an issue with some of his meds and he was a bit out of control. I gave him an earful when he woke up this morning, that's for sure."

"Remus did this," Kurt said flatly, his voice soft enough that Harry was fairly sure no one else would hear them. "He hurt you."

"Not intentionally," Harry hurriedly pulled Kurt out the door of the choir room, suddenly aware of the pianist watching them with alarm. "And he didn't hit me or anything, Kurt, he just... knocked me down. Like I did to Mr Schuester the other day."

"Hard enough to do that?" Kurt prodded Harry's cheek with narrowed eyes, and Harry flinched.

"I hit the desk hard enough to do that, yeah. It's not a big deal, Kurt. I can handle it."

Kurt looked at him for a long moment, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the unsplit side of Harry's mouth. Harry returned the kiss automatically, looking up hopefully when Kurt pulled away. His boyfriend still looked disturbed and conflicted, but he gently pushed Harry back towards the choir room and started down the hall.

"I'm still getting you ice," he grumbled as he left, leaving Harry to go back inside on his own. He quickly stepped back into line next to Tina, who looked over at him this time and smiled weakly. The pity in her eyes made him flinch and look down at his feet, and he moved through the steps of the dance automatically.

There were moments in this routine where he stepped with Quinn, twirling her in his arms. She squeezed his hands for a second and looked into his eyes with compassion. She bent forward and leaned close to his ear.

"Artie and Finn are being stupid. I know you're not dangerous."

Harry looked up at her gratefully, his first genuine smile of the day touching his lips, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for being your friend," she whispered before she danced away, leaving Harry to have to catch up with the other boys. His heart felt a little lighter at Quinn's reassurance.

_I guess she's had experience with friends judging her, _he considered as he moved, ducking Finn's elbow on reflex. _Now I just have to earn her faith in me by not disabling another footballer. I wonder who else doesn't believe them? I wonder who does? Fuck, I hope I don't split the club into sides over this. They're a family, they don't need me messing things up for them like that._

Kurt came back in with a bag of ice when Mr Schuester was helping Finn with one of the more complicated moves. He stalked over to Harry and pressed it against his face with tenderness that belied the scowl on his face. Harry brought a hand up and placed it over Kurt's on the ice bag, pleading with his eyes for Kurt to not be angry with him. The taller boy's gaze softened and he sighed, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead and resting his chin on Harry's head. Harry leaned into the touches gratefully, and sighed a little when he felt how the ice soothed the pain ever so slightly.

"You don't have to do this alone," Kurt murmured, his voice tight and strained. "You_ don't_, Harry."

"I do," Harry objected softly, shrugging a little. "But it's okay. I'm used to it."

"You are so frustrating," Kurt's voice was fond, and he pulled away to shoot Harry a wry look. "One day, Harry Potter, one day you will believe me when I say you're handsome, believe me when I say you don't have to do things on your own, and believe me when I say that green and silver would look amazing on you."

"I believe the last one, I'm just ignoring it. I have bad associations with those colours," Harry grinned. "The first two are crap, though."

Kurt made a frustrated noise and poked Harry playfully. His finger his Harry's rib on a deep bruise, and the wizard couldn't help but hiss and pull away, his hand flying up to protect his chest. There was a moment where both of them froze.

_Well fuck, that's not good._

Kurt's face twisted into a scowl and he grabbed the hem of Harry's t-shirt with rough hands. He yanked it up so that it was above Harry's face, swatting away the hands that tried to stop him, and stared hard at Harry's torso.

Harry had looked at his torso in the shower, so he knew what was provoking the gasps around him; layers and layers of purple bruises and red scrapes, deep and angry on his pale skin. On his right it was from hitting the desk hard enough to crack the wood, so it was mottled and covering his side. On the left it was from Moony's big paw, with four tiny cuts where the wolf's claws had nicked him. It was deep and black and shaped vaguely like a hand; Kurt's knuckles were white on Harry's shirt.

"Mr Schue," Kurt ground out, his teeth gritted and his voice wavering. The teacher turned before Harry could tug his shirt back down and caught sight of the bruises and scrapes. As Harry pulled away and tried to tug down his shirt the man rushed forward, his hand closing around the hem of Harry's shirt next to Kurt's, holding it up so he could see. Harry pulled on it more desperately, glancing around at the wide-eyed stares of his friends as the shirt stretched from his efforts.

"Please let go," he begged the two men in a whisper. The tightness in his voice seemed to startle both Kurt and Mr Schuester into obeying, dropping his shirt back into place and covering his injuries. Harry smoothed it down, his eyes on his feet as his mind began to race.

_Fuck fuck fuck, there is no way they'll let this go now. Why didn't I try to heal it? Right, my magic isn't stable enough, fuck. What if Mr Schuester tells the police? What if they try to send me away? I don't have anywhere else to go, and I'm not a permanent citizen anyway, could they send me back to England? They can't send Remus to a muggle prison, this will bring American Wizarding Law Enforcement down on us. What do I do what do I do what do I do-_

"Harry, deep breathes," Kurt's voice soothed him, a gentle hand slipping behind his back to rub his shoulder gently. Harry glanced up at his boyfriend with damp eyes - he'd started hyperventilating without realising. Mr Schuester was shepherding the two boys out of the choir room, quietly instructing the gleeks they were leaving behind as he followed. Harry allowed himself to be led through the hallways, focusing on keeping his breathing even as Kurt and Mr Schuester walked quietly at his sides.

_I can't Obliviate everyone, not with my magic like this, maybe if I ask someone back home to undo any charges brought against Remus I can - no, I can't tell anyone where I am, I'm alone, I have to do this on my own, fuck - did I take a Calming Drought this morning? I can't remember. I don't think I did. Merlin, I have to calm down - they know, they've seen, but he isn't abusing me, he's not, it was just one bad day, I need to think of an excuse. What can I say? I don't know what to do..._

The wizard allowed himself to be ushered into the empty Guidance office. He collapsed into the chair Kurt motioned him to, letting his boyfriend cling to his hand as Harry looked resolutely at his knees. Mr Schuester leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded, and for a moment there was a pause. Reluctantly, Harry broke the silence.

"He hasn't been abusing me."

Mr Schuester sighed and Kurt tightened his grip on Harry's hand, and Harry looked between them imploringly, "Really. Last night was the first time he'd ever... and he didn't mean too. He just..."

Harry trailed off, thinking furiously. Inspiration flashed through him and he ran with it, "He was so out of it. His medication... it's not good. He didn't knock me into a desk, he... knocked me down the stairs."

Kurt gasped, one elegant hand flying up to his mouth, but Mr Schuester looked unconvinced. Harry tried to look sincere, "It was an accident, really. When he sobered up and woke up this morning I went mental at him, told him that he almost killed me because of those stupid drugs. He feels terrible about it."

"That may be so, Harry, but he still hurt you," Mr Schuester's voice was gentle, soothing, but Harry just shook his head, clutching at Kurt's hand tightly.

"Not intentionally," he argued, looking down again. "It was an accident."

There was a pause, and the wizard could sense the silent conversation happening above him. Kurt squeezed his hand gently, and the wizard looked up automatically. Kurt's expression was hesitant, thoughtful, and after a quick glance at Mr Schuester, he began to speak, "Harry... one of those bruises looked like a hand print."

_Paw print._

"From when he knocked me," Harry clenched his empty fist thinking of how the werewolf had struck him, of how hard he'd hit his desk... Kurt nodded.

"So he hit you, knocked you off balance, and you fell down the stairs?" Kurt confirmed, looking into Harry's eyes carefully. Harry winced.

"He didn't hit me, he just..." Harry trailed off, thinking of the bruise on his side. He cringed. "...yes. That's what happened."

"Okay," Kurt let out a long breath. Harry could feel his boyfriend's hand trembling a little in his own, and he could hear the shakiness in the boy's voice. "Okay, that's - we can deal with this."

_You shouldn't have to_, Harry thought, taking in his boyfriend's pale face and trembling mouth with miserable eyes._ You shouldn't have to deal with my problems. God, this is all wrong. This is all so fucking wrong._

Mr Schuester was looking carefully between his two students. He took a deep breath before he spoke, "Can I see it again, Harry? The bruising on your chest?"

Harry flinched, and the man raised his hands in surrender, "Only if you're comfortable with it. I just want to make sure they aren't worse than they looked in the choir room."

_The choir room where everyone saw them. Fuck, why did everyone have to see? Why did... why did Kurt have to show them like that?_

Harry glanced at Kurt, who smiled weakly. A kernel of anger started burning in Harry's chest when he thought back to how Kurt had forced his shirt up in the choir room, called attention to the bruises, made Harry deal with it like he was having too... He took a deep breath and forced the anger away. _They've already seen them once... _he shakily raised his hands to the hem of his shirt and peeled it up, letting it stop just above the bottom of his ribcage. Kurt hissed in sympathy when he saw the bruising, and Mr Schuester grimaced. For a long, uncomfortable moment, both men just stared, taking in the deep purple on Harry's ribs, the scrapes on his stomach, the huge almost-hand print on his side. The whole thing was mottled and ugly, on top of Harry's already hideous scars, and he cringed at the thought of Kurt seeing them.

_I must look like a monster to him, just a total fucking mess. How could he want to be with me? Why did he have to see them, have to show them? Damn it, I can't deal with this, I can't I can't I can't._

"Sweetie, take a deep breath, you're hyperventilating again," Kurt soothed him, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. The wizard pulled away from his touch, lowering his shirt with a fierce scowl at his knees. He kept seeing the looks on his friends' faces in the choir room, Quinn's tear-filled eyes, Sam's horror, Puck's anger... _They won't be able to look at me the same way again. They'll pity me as well as fear me. Why couldn't he have asked about it in private? Why did he have to show them? _Kurt hesitated when Harry pulled away from him, and the wizard could see him lower his hand. There was an uncomfortable pause as Harry slowed his breathing, forcing back his fear and anger to try and focus on fixing this.

"Harry," Mr Schuester began carefully, and Harry looked up to catch his eye. The teacher looked regretful, worried, and the boy tensed in anticipation. "I have to report this."

Harry's stomach dropped, and he could feel his face lose what little colour it had. Kurt reached out to grab his hand, but Harry snatched it away and got to his feet, his breathing speeding up again.

"You can't," he forced out between breaths, clenching his fists at his sides. "Sir, you_ can't_-"

"Your guardian almost killed you, Harry. That can't just go away," the teacher stood up straighter, trying to persuade Harry with logic, but the wizard just shook his head.

"You can't," he insisted, his throat feeling tighter every second. "I have no one else, do you understand? No one. There is no family to send me to, no one to take custody. If he's arrested or I'm sent away, they'll put me into foster care."

Both Kurt and Mr Schuester flinched at Harry's frantic words, and Kurt raised a hand to his mouth. Harry went on, his words tumbling over one another.

"I don't even know what kind of visa I have - what if they send me back to England? What if they send me back to the Dursleys? Then I would be getting abused, Mr Schuester, genuinely, actually abused, not one stupid mistake on Remus's part. And Remus - he needs help, prison would destroy him, and it was an accident anyway. Please, you can't tell anyone-"

"Harry, I have to," Mr Schuester interrupted, taking a cautious step towards the shaking teenager. "I can't let you go back to a home where your guardian - intentionally or not - is putting your life at risk. His drug use - and I know that it's prescription, I understand that it's for a medical issue - but it's out of control."

"I can handle it," Harry insisted, his voice breaking on the last word. He forced certainty he didn't feel into his words as he tried again. "I can handle it, Mr Schue."

The teacher paused, rubbing his face with one slightly trembling hand, "Harry... I don't think you can."

The rage that shot through Harry at these words surprised even him. Had his mind been a little clearer he would have been shocked that nothing broke or shattered when it hit him, that his magic didn't react at all, but instead he just went perfectly still. Everything he was feeling, everything he had felt in the last year focused on that moment, into that freezing rage, and he spoke very clearly, "I have handled far more than this. I have been through far worse things than this. What I can't handle is people meddling in things that don't concern them, so let me make this clear."

He focused his flashing eyes on Kurt, his resolve not weakening at the sight of his boyfriend's damp eyes, "If the police get involved in this, none of you will ever see me again. This is my life. Remus is my responsibility, and I. Can. Handle it."

There was a pause while Kurt and Mr Schuester stared at him with wide eyes. Harry's hands were shaking and his mind was racing, but he turned without a word and stalked towards the door. Mr Schuester's voice stopped him.

"You're wrong, Harry."

Harry's hand tightened on the doorknob. The teacher continued softly, "He shouldn't be your responsibility. You're meant to be his."

"Yeah, well, that's not how it works for me," Harry muttered, pulling the door open with a hard tug, trying to ignore how heavy it felt. He stomped outside and down the hall, back towards the choir room. _I have to go home, get my Calming Drought, then get back to school before the first bell. What can I say to the glee kids? Will they even be able to look at me? I don't think I can handle this. I don't know what to do. _


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Happy New Year! Sorry for the late update, New Years took its toll on me. I'll be a lot happier about it being 2012 when I stop throwing up, I think. **CHAPTER SPOILER ALERT: **Shit's about to get real. I've never had a nervous breakdown so I don't actually know what would be going through someone's head, but I have had hundred of anxiety attacks so I've based it on those. That kind of feeling is really, really hard to express in words but I've done my best. I hope it comes across okay.

* * *

_Dangerous, I'm dangerous, I'm a monster-_

He was barely aware of bursting out of the front doors, of knocking aside a janitor as he ran towards his car, pulling his hands out of his pockets with shaking hands, climbing behind the wheel with tears pouring down his face. He couldn't think, couldn't _breathe_, thoughts slipping in and out of his mind so fast he couldn't grasp them, couldn't focus on anything -

_Dangerous, monster, freak, they're afraid of me, **he's** a afraid of me, they should be, murderer, murderer, **murderer**-_

He was driving, barely conscious of what he was doing. He heard someone honk at the back of his mind, but it was drowned out by the screaming -

_How could he, how could **I**, I don't know what to do, I don't, I can't, I can't handle this, scared, so scared, they're scared of me, what do I do, murderer murderer murderer-_

He pulled his car onto the lawn in front of his house and staggered out, dragging himself inside as the panic attack raged in his mind. The door was open slightly, but he didn't really register it as he made his way upstairs, blackness creeping into the edges of his vision as his brain started to shut down from lack of oxygen. His bedroom door was open and he rushed inside, collapsing in front of his bedside table and groping around inside for a vial of the Draught.

_Where are they? Where are they I need it I need it I can't breathe -_

His fingers finally closed around a cool vial and he dragged it out, pulling out the stopper with barely controlled hands and swallowing down the potion. Some slipped down his chin and he nearly choked as he tried to gasp and drink at the same time, but it slipped into his system. His breathing slowed and the anxiety was forced away by the artificial calm. Awareness came back to him. There were tears and sweat slipping down his face, and a deep ache had taken up residence in his muscles. He was half sprawled against his bed, clinging to the covers with his trembling fingers. His thoughts quietened a little, allowing him to think clearly.

_Did I just... drive while having a panic attack? Oh fuck. I hope I didn't cause an accident or something._

He looked around helplessly at his still trashed room, a little lost. There was still and undercurrent of tension, of fear running through his body, and he turned the empty vial over in his hands._ Maybe I should take another and just stay home today? No, I need to deal with Remus, work out if he's going to get arrested because of this. But I still feel so shaky, how can I feel so scared after I've had a Draught? I need another one before I can deal with this._

The boy dragged himself onto his bed, idly pushing aside a piece of paper that he almost sat on. He leaned forward to look in his drawer.

_Wait, where are the Draughts?_

He pulled himself forward and pulled the drawer out, resting it across his lap. He could see a notebook, a few pens, an empty gum wrapper, but there were no Calming Draughts at all.

_What-?_

Harry tipped the drawer over his bed, onto the piece of paper he'd shoved aside. His eyes caught sight of that now, of a torn scrap of notebook paper that was rippled and distorted as though it had been wet. Harry felt uneasy looking at it, felt strangely nervous and unwilling to look closer. But he picked it up with an unsteady hand and smoothed it out the best he could, holding it up to the light.

It was incomprehensible at first, messy and water-ravaged as it was. The writing on it was smudged and shaky, and the sentences made little sense as it was. The nervousness in Harry's chest faded as words started to jump out at him, as he started to make sense of the madness, and it was replaced by an overwhelming, all-consuming numbness. He read the letter once, then twice, before it finally began to sink in.

_Harry,_

_I can't I can't I have to go, I can't stay here, I can't do this. I can't be your guardian Harry I just can't I'm sorry so sorry_

Harry got up off his bed, only vaguely aware that he was moving, and slipped outside his room. He walked calmly down the hallway to Remus's room, noting the empty drawers and stripped bed with detached eyes. The words on the letter circled his head, burned into his mind even as the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

_Lily and James would hate me I know they would and Sirius, he would hate me too but I can't do it I have to leave. Please don't hate me too I couldn't bear it even though you should because Ive just been so useless but i can't think or do anything i'm just so scared and hopeless so i'm going._

Harry was in the living room, then in the kitchen, and he didn't remember walking downstairs. That memory lapse didn't seemed to matter much, nor did the fact that he couldn't seem to hear anything over a strange roaring in his ears. He didn't feel anything, couldn't think anything other than replaying and rereading the crumpled paper in his hands.

_i needed your draughts harry you don't need them but i do. dont take them, you should never take them because they will destroy you like they did me i can't even think anymore_

He was outside - when had he walked outside? But he was outside, near his crookedly parked car, staring across the street to the neat lawns of his neighbours. The sun was bright and the sky was clear - it was a strangely lovely day, considering the time of year. The letter wasn't in his hand anymore - had he put it down? It didn't matter; he could remember it anyway.

_i don't know where I'll go but i wont come back, i can't, you'll be fine without me, better without me. I'm sorry, harry, I'm so sorry - Remus_

A gentle breeze ruffled Harry's hair, pushing it away from his face. He listened to the roaring in his head, the static, and he stood. He stood for what felt like an hour - or was it a minute? - until a familiar truck was pulling into his driveway. He stared blankly as heavy-booted feet hit the asphalt, as a man in dirty coveralls started cautiously towards him. He just stared as the man's mouth moved, formed words and sounds that Harry couldn't hear, couldn't understand. The man got closer, but hesitated to touch him, his eyes kind and concerned.

The man's mouth was moving, forming familiar shapes that Harry recognised, but just couldn't comprehend. Any sound he was making was dampened by the rushing in Harry's ears. Harry just stood and stared unblinkingly,_ breathe in, breathe out,_ quiet in the sunny day and _where is the letter? Where did I put it down?_ Neighbour on the front lawn across the street, getting the mail _my car is parked on a sprinkler, I should move it_ the man in front of him was still speaking, words rolling over Harry's ears and into the ether_ I need to clean up my room, I left paper on the floor but not the letter, the letter, where did I put the letter-_

A warm, strong hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder. It cut through the fog, the roaring, and Harry came crashing back into his body. Burt Hummel looked at him with kind eyes and repeated the words he'd been trying to say for God only knew how long.

"Harry, kid, are you okay?"

"Help me," the words surprised Harry as much as they surprised Burt, but not as much as the tears that suddenly sprung to Harry's eyes and down his face. Every emotion Harry had been too numb to feel was shooting through his veins, making him feel the hurt, the betrayal, the _abandonment_ in every cell of his body. He staggered forward, suddenly as breathless as if he'd been punched in the chest, and grasped Burt's oily coveralls with strong hands. "Please, sir - _help_ me, I can't, I can't I_ can't_-"

"Hey, kid, sweetheart, it's okay," Burt's voice was soothing, paternal, and it broke Harry all the more. The mechanic let the teenager collapse against him, wrapping strong arms around narrow shoulders as Harry shook and sobbed into his chest.

_He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, Remus is gone, he left and he's gone and it's all my fault, it's all my fault, I'm alone, I'm alone now there's no one else, no one but Remus and now he's gone and I can't, I can't, I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't deal with this it's too much too much too much._

Fear began to override everything, making Harry's breath come faster and his sobs become rough screams. Burt held him tighter, held the boy against his chest as he cried and screamed.

_Alone, alone now, scared, no one, he left me, he left me and now I have no one I'm** so scared**-_

"I can't, I can't," he babbled through his tears, into Burt's chest, gasping breaths between keening sobs. The man made a soothing noise and rubbed a hand against Harry's back.

"You don't have to do anything but breathe, kiddo. Come on now, not that fast, just slow, deep breathes, okay?"

Burt's voice - his soothing, paternal voice - somehow cut through some of the panic that was pressing into Harry's eyes. Harry clung to it, clung to him, forced his breathing to slow.

_Pathetic, so pathetic, pathetic little monster. Made Remus run away and then can't even hold himself up. Stupid, pathetic little monster._

Harry's sobs eased a little for a moment, leaving him whimpering into Burt's chest. Harry pulled back a little, looking up at Burt with wide, wild eyes. Words were clawing at his throat, forcing their way out of his mouth, words he'd held in for longer than he could remember. They tumbled out of him without any semblance of order or reason, words that would mean nothing but say everything, "He's gone, he left, they always _leave_. I didn't - I don't know what I do, I just - I try, I try _so hard _to be okay but I'm _not_, I'm not okay and I'm not good and everyone says I am but I'm _not _because if I was they'd stay but they _don't_. I'm a monster, I'm a monster, I'm dangerous and everyone should leave and they do and I can't, I can't I can't I can't-"

"Harry, what-" Burt tried to interrupt him, tried to grasp onto the ranting boy's wrist, but Harry pulled away, shaking his head and reaching up to pull at his hair.

"He's gone. Don't you get it? He wrote a note and he _left _me. He's all I have but he left because I'm bad, I'm bad and he can't deal with me," Harry didn't notice how loud he was talking, how choked up and strangled his words were. He was vaguely aware of the neighbours watching, of Burt looking at him with horror, but he couldn't control it, couldn't contain it, just couldn't stop _feeling_. "I'm a monster, and people shouldn't - they shouldn't have to deal with me. I should just - I should _die_, I should just _go away_ and _die _because then I won't hurt people and I can't, I can't feel like this it's too _much-_"

He was tearing at his hair, his clothes, his face, fighting off Burt's attempts to hold his hands still. He wanted to shred his skin, tear himself to _pieces_, and his mind was a whirlwind of fear and rage and a hate so potent he could feel it in his bones.

_Monster, murderer, not worth saving, not worth staying for. You made him leave, made him run, monster, monster monster-_

"Harry, stop it!" Burt's voice was far away, behind the twisted voice spewing poison in Harry's skull. The man kept trying to grasp his, hold his wrists so he couldn't keep ripping at his skin. "Stop, kid, you're going to hurt yourself. Shit, hold on."

He pulled Harry close to him and pinned the teenager's arms by his sides. Harry should have been stronger; he should have been able to break the man's hold. But his magic wasn't reacting, wasn't helping, and he was so tired, so tired of everything that he just couldn't summon the energy to fight anymore. Harry slumped forward, allowing himself to be caught by the man, allowing himself to be picked up and carried like a child to the Hummel's pick up truck, allowing tears and sobs to wrack him unrestrained and finally, allowing himself to slip into the darkness in his mind, making him oblivious to anything but the words circling in his head.

_Monster, monster, monster..._

* * *

Burt didn't take him back to the Hummel property, not right away. He first drove up to Lima Hospital, and Harry started when they pulled in. _No, no hospitals, I can't go to hospital, they'll find out about Remus and they'll send me away and that's where the blood and the fire and the screams are, can't go in, can't go in!_ Harry choked on a sob and grabbed at the door handle, holding it closed with what little strength he had and throwing Burt a desperate look.

"No, I'm not going in there, I can't," he insisted, his words tumbling over themselves unheeded. When Burt took a deep breath Harry continued, reaching over to grab the man's arm in his small, shaking hand. "No no _no_, I can't, they'll send me away and I don't like the blood, please don't make me go in there, I can't I can't _I can't_-"

"Breathe, kiddo," Burt raised a hand to clasp Harry's shoulder, watching as the boy trembled and tried to slow his breathing. His expression was torn between determination and guilt, and his voice was uncharacteristically gentle when he continued. "Harry, you're hurt. The doctors can help you. And I think maybe... you might need their help in - other ways, too."

"They're just bruises," Harry pleaded, trying to scrambled away from the sight of the building; he only succeeded in pushing himself into a ball on the chair. "I got worse as a _toddler_. They're just bruises. I don't need to go in there. Please don't make me go in there. That's where the fire was - that's where _Kingsley _was..."

"Harry, stop it," Burt grabbed his hands from where the teenager had been tearing at his face again. "Jesus, okay! I'm not gonna force you. Just - just calm down."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised, not really knowing why. Tears were leaking down his face again, feeling too hot and raw against his stinging, scratched up cheeks. He whimpered and tried to claw closer to Burt, wanting some of the comfort he'd felt from the man before. "I'm _sorry_, Burt, I'm so sorry. I just - I just - I can't and I'm scared and I just don't know-"

"Shh, shh, it's all right," Burt undid his seat belt and slid closer to Harry, pulling the tiny teenager against his chest. "Hey, I got you. It's okay. You don't have nothing to be sorry for, you understand me? This is - okay, how about this. You answer some questions, and maybe you don't have to go in the hospital. Is that - can you do that for me, kid?"

"Yeah, I - yeah," Harry nodded, pulling back to look at Burt with wild but earnest eyes. "Anything, just can't go in there."

"Okay," Burt breathed, taking a moment to think. After a hesitation he tried to start. "Okay. You're... how badly hurt are you? You sure they're just bruises?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, shakily wiping his face before grabbing the hem of his shirt. He started twisting it in his hands, trying to force out some of the burning energy that was bubbling under his skin. "Yeah, just deep bruises. Nothing's broken, no internal bleeding. I've had worse, I've had - so much worse."

Burt shut his eyes at Harry's shaky, uneven words. The boy couldn't really control his voice, his body. The anxiety, that ever present fear that he could usually keep below the surface except for during panic attacks, had over taken him and he found himself twitching and jerking his arms as he tried to hold on. Burt continued.

"Remus did this to you," it wasn't a question, and Harry whimpered, one hand slipping up to tug on his hair. Burt pulled the hand away and spoke a little more firmly. "Harry, you have to answer me."

"Yes," Harry gasped, trying to wrestle his hand back from Burt. "Yes, he did it. He hurt me and he said he never would but he did-"

"Okay, okay," Burt tried to sooth him, sighing in relief as Harry half collapsed against his arms. "Okay, you've told me, it's done. Where is he now, Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry choked out, shaking his head against the arm of Burt's rough coveralls. "I don't know. He just wrote this letter and he left because I shouted at him."

"What? He left?" Burt pulled back, eyes worried again. "You don't mean - he didn't... do something to himself, did he?"

Harry's blood went cold and he started shuddering, "I don't - he just left the house and said he was going but - I didn't think of - oh Merlin, fuck, what if he did? What if he-?"

"No, I just meant - if he didn't say it he probably didn't hurt himself, Harry," Burt tried to reassure the whimpering boy. "You're saying he wrote a note and left - like, ran away?"

"Yeah," Harry gave a little hysterical laugh. "My guardian ran away from home. God, what the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Nothing. There's just something very wrong with him," Burt sighed again, grabbing Harry's hand before it could return to his face. "And he ran off because you shouted at him? When?"

"This morning," Harry whispered, the hysterical humour bleeding out of his voice. "I - it wasn't his fault, you know? That he attacked me. It was the drugs. It's all the drugs, but I - I shouted at him, and told him he was useless, and he was crying but I just kept shouting so he left, he left me-"

"Harry, shit - that's messed up," the mechanic shook his head, a horrified expression twisting his face. "Jesus - teenagers shout sometimes. They get rude and out of line but you don't - you don't _abandon _them for it. You don't run out on your kid because you can't handle 'em being loud. This is all kinds of wrong, but - but it's all on him, you hear me? This isn't your fault, none of this is your fault."

"I called him pathetic," Harry whimpered, letting a sob fall out of his mouth without thinking. "I called him useless. I - I hurt him so much, why did I -"

"Harry, even if you were outta line - which considering he _beat_ you the night before, I don't think you were - the right response to a teenager bein' like that ain't running and leaving them all alone. Jesus, considering everything you're going through, that shouldn't even - no, he's the only one wrong here, kiddo."

Harry just shook his head and buried his face in his arms. There was a few moments of silence in the car, Burt tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and Harry curling up in his seat. After a moment, Burt continued slowly.

"What do you want to do now, Harry?"

"I want to die," Harry muttered, the words slipping out of him uncensored. He didn't hear Burt's distressed intake of breath as he curled up further, sobs beginning to wrack his body again. "I just - I deserve to _die_. I'm a monster. I want to die-"

"No, _stop _that, Harry, fuck," Burt was shifting over in his seat again, grabbing Harry's wrists and tugging the weeping boy to face him. Harry looked up at him desperately, tears burning his eyes and streaking his glasses. _Can't can't can't should die, should die, deserve it, I'm a __**monster**__- _"Take - take a deep breath, Harry. Shit. You do not deserve to die, are you kidding me? You ain't a monster, you're a good kid."

"I hurt people," Harry gasped, ducking his head forward and thumping it against his clenched fists where Burt held them._ Hermione Ron Remus Sirius I hurt them, I hurt them. _"I just _hurt _people, I'm so fucking _useless_."

"I don't believe that," Burt growled, taking both Harry's wrists in one hand so he could grasp the boy's shoulder. "I don't believe that for one goddamn second. You make Kurt so happy, kid. I've seen you two together - I've seen you with all those kids. They love you. You saved Kurt and Rachel's lives, for fucks sake. Finn told me about what happened with that boy at school - okay, that wasn't good. You screwed up. So what? That doesn't make you a bad person."

"It's not all I've done," Harry whispered. He couldn't think straight, couldn't think of statutes and laws and secrets. He just had to make Burt understand that he was wrong; _**I deserve this.**_ "You don't know - back home, in England, I did things - I hurt people. I wanted to stop here but I_ can't_, it just keeps _happening_, I don't want to hurt people but I do and Kurt's afraid of me now because I'm dangerous. I'm just _dangerous_."

Burt didn't answer Harry, and for a wild moment the boy thought the man had understood -_ he'll leave now, I don't want him to leave but he should, he __**should**_- but before Harry could pull back he found a gentle, calloused hand on his chin, tilting his face up to look into Burt's compassionate eyes.

"Kid, there ain't a damn thing you can say that would make me believe that you're as bad as you seem to think. You saved my son. Both of 'em! You make Kurt smile wider than I've seen him do since his mom died. I don't know what you did in England, but I don't really care. As long as you keep treatin' Kurt like you do you can do no wrong, in my book."

"I just want to die," Harry whispered, his voice tiny and his hands trembling. "I hate this - I hate _me _so much, and I'm so scared, I'm _so scared _I just don't know what to do-"

"You let me take care of that right now, okay, kiddo?" Burt soothed, easing Harry back against his seat and doing up his seat belt. Harry clawed at it compulsively, tugging on the seat and on his clothes as Burt turned back to the steering wheel. "I'm going to take you back to my place now, okay? You can stay with us until we get this sorted out."

"But Finn's scared of me," Harry muttered in a little voice. Burt shook his head as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"No, he ain't. Kurt called me at work, 'show I knew to come and find you. He was seriously upset that he upset you, Harry. And Finn took the phone off him at one point - he feels really bad about how he's been treating you. Said he didn't understand what Kurt meant when he said you were going through a rough time. He's a good kid, but he's naive, you know? To him a rough time means breaking up with his girlfriend or not being quarterback for a while. He didn't understand just how bad things were for you."

"He's a kid," Harry muttered hoarsely, Burt's voice soothing him a little as they drove along. When he could no longer see the hospital in the rear-view mirror the worst of the trembling stopped, though he still couldn't control the twitching in his arms and hands._ Won't stop, won't __**stop**__, stupid, so stupid, why won't it stop? _"He shouldn't - he shouldn't understand it."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Burt agreed, turning a corner back toward the Hudmel household. "He could still be more sensitive, though."

They lapsed into silence then, Harry still shivering minutely and twitching in his seat, Burt focusing on driving. Harry found himself breaking into a cold sweat when they turned down the Hummel's street as his mind flashed back to the day before, when he was last here. _Finn and Kurt shouting, I was tearing them apart, and Remus, Remus was actually okay, he took care of me and then I screwed it all up-_

"Hey, Harry, don't you start hyperventilating on me again," Burt reached across the car to take Harry's hand and drag it away from his face as he pulled into the driveway. The mechanic parked the car one handed when Harry clung on, turning the engine off with a sigh. "Looks like Kurt and Finn are home - musta skipped off school. Think I'll let 'em this once. Kurt's probably frantic."

Harry let go of the man reluctantly when he opened the driver's side door, staying curled up in his seat until the man came around to get him. He allowed Burt to help him out of the car, compulsively clinging to him like a spider monkey when he hit the ground - he felt like his legs would give out at any minute. Burt half-carried, half-dragged Harry to the front door, opening it mainly with his shoulder. The voices that had been slipping under the door suddenly went silent, and from under his matted hair Harry could see Kurt and Finn, pale faced and shaken, hovering in the middle of the living room. Both boys took steps towards Harry at once, but Harry cringed back and curled against Burt's side. He felt Burt's other arm move and heard Kurt and Finn's footsteps stop.

"Harry?" Kurt's voice was tentative, and Harry couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. "Dad? What happened?"

"Can you two sit down? Don't crowd him," Burt sighed and pushed Harry a little further back. When Harry began to shake harder he put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and leaned closer. "I'm guessing you don't feel up to explaining? They gotta know at least some of it."

Harry shook his head frantically, compulsively pushing his hair off his face. Burt just patted him on of the shoulder and started slowly guiding him to the couch. Harry curled up the second he hit the comforting fabric, digging his fingers into its softness and tucking his chin behind his knees.

"Dude, what's wrong? Is he okay?" Finn wondered, and Harry could vaguely hear a thump that indicated that Kurt may have hit him. Burt sighed.

"No, Finn, he's not. Look, I need you two to sit down and stay calm, okay? Harry's going to be staying here for a while."

"It's Remus, isn't it? What did he do, Harry? I swear, if he hurt you again..." Kurt almost snarled. Harry cringed away from the harsh noise, even as a part of him wanted to reach out to his boyfriend. _He wants to help, he wants to protect, deserves better than me but he wants me, he wants me, I want him too, __**Kurt**__..._

"Hey," Burt cut his son off firmly, shifting on the couch. As Harry continued to glance up at Kurt on and off, trying to work out if he could safely reach out and grab at him, the mechanic continued. "Remus is gone, Kurt. He took off, left Harry behind. He ain't coping so well, so he's going to stay here until we work something else out."

"He, like, ran away?" Finn sounded astounded, and beside him Kurt began to hiss curses in French under his breath. "But he's Harry's guardian, he can't - holy shit, who does that?"

Kurt cut himself off mid-curse and took a deep breath, "Okay, that's - okay. I mean, it's not _okay_, it's pretty much the worst thing he could have done short of shooting Harry or something, but we can deal with this. When you say not coping, you mean...?"

"I think," Burt said carefully, and Harry could feel their eyes on him. He curled up tighter, burying his face against his knees and trying to block out the room. "That it would be fair to say that Harry's having a bit of a breakdown."

Harry felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest at Burt's delicate words. _Yes, yes that would be fair to say. I can't control my body, I can't control my brain, and I honestly and seriously and really really really want to jump off of a high place right now. I'm not okay, I'm so not okay, I can't I can't I can't -_the laughter erupted out of his mouth in a strangled sort of sob, and his shoulders shook with humorless giggles as the men around him went quiet.

"Harry?" Kurt's voice was gentle, soothing, and Harry felt the laughter begin to dissolve into weak sobs. "Harry, are you...?"

Kurt trailed off, obviously aware that there wasn't anything he could say. Harry felt his body begin to tremble as he wept again, and he glanced up to catch Kurt's gaze. His boyfriend's blue-green eyes shone with fear and hurt and barely held-back rage, and Harry couldn't help but reach out one trembling hand towards him. Kurt responded immediately, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it tightly.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," the taller boy whispered, his high voice trembling and sweet. "I promise you, we'll fix this."

"He took my pills, Kurt," Harry whispered back, the thought hitting him and pushing more tears from his eyes. "My medication - he took all of it for himself."

Kurt's eyes widened, but after a moment his expression hardened, "It doesn't matter. We'll work through it, Harry. We can do this."

"I don't want to," Harry muttered nonsensically, turning his head away and back again. "I don't want to do - I just want to die, Kurt. I made him leave. I made him leave me. I deserve to-"

"Oh no you don't," Harry found himself being snatched into Kurt's arms, off the couch and on to his boyfriend's lap. "You don't get to talk like that, Harry Potter. You don't get to think like that. You didn't make him leave. You don't deserve to suffer like this. And you're not allowed to die."

Kurt pressed Harry's face close into his shoulder, and the wizard could feel the way Kurt shook under him. The warmth he felt here, Kurt's arms around him and his heartbeat near his ear, made him feel, just for a moment, like maybe his boyfriend was right. The fearful, painful thoughts didn't stop though, kept pressing through and into Harry's mind like little pinpricks.

"You were scared," he murmured, trying to pull away. His hands started compulsively picking at themselves again, at his clothes and his skin as his anxiety rose again. "You flinched when I just moved-"

"Harry, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm kind of a highly-strung person," Kurt huffed, tugging Harry back and digging his fingers into Harry's arms to pin him in place. "I'm jumpy. So sue me. I'd flinch if anyone raised their hand like that, even if I knew that they weren't going to hit me. I'm more afraid of - of - of _Brittany _than I am of you. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"I don't deserve you," Harry whispered into Kurt's neck, barely aware that he was speaking. Kurt snorted.

"You're right. I think you deserve better. But you're stuck with me, Harry Potter, because I am crazy about you, and even if-if-if the Princess of Perfect-Land crashes this party wanting to sweep you off your feet or whatever I am going to _fight_ for you because I _want_ you, I want to be with you, and I am not letting you go anywhere until you believe that," Kurt took a deep, gasping breath at the end of his speech, and for a moment the other three men just stared at him, reeling. Even Harry couldn't help but glance up to look into Kurt's wild, passionate eye. The pale boy was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed pink and his mouth open slightly, like he couldn't really believe he'd said all of that. Harry's lips twitched upward in a weak, short smile, before he tucked his head back against Kurt's chest.

"Right," Burt eventually began again, exchanging a bemused glance with Finn. "Well - you three don't have to go back to school today-"

"Oh my God, I totally forgot we even had school."

"Me too! Rachel's going to be furious."

"Yeah, well, you're going tomorrow so don't get too excited. Harry, I was thinking you'd stay in Kurt's room, and he'd have the couch," Burt rolled his eyes at Kurt and Finn's interruption, and pointed at Harry when he shifted uncomfortably. "And I'm sure Kurt don't mind, so don't even think about protesting."

"Of course I don't mind," Kurt huffed, running his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry leaned into the touch automatically, his hands clenching around handfuls of Kurt's expensive sweater. He could feel the material pull under his fingers but he couldn't make his grip loosen - every attempt just made his arms spasm.

_Out of control, I can't control any of it, hate this, hate this hate this hate this. Stupid body, stupid brain, stupid Remus, Remus Remus left me, he left me behind because I'm bad, I'm bad, he's gone everyone leaves-_

"Harry?" Kurt's soothing, loving voice broke into Harry's deteriorating thoughts. "Harry, you're going to stay in my room, okay?"

Harry tried to pull away, out of Kurt's warm arms. _Don't deserve this, don't deserve comfort, don't deserve him-_

"Harry," Kurt's voice was a little sharper, and Harry's weak struggling ended. "You're staying in my room. I want you to stay in my room. You're going to stay here with us until you feel better, okay?"

"'m never going to feel better," Harry whimpered, twisting in Kurt's grip. "'m broken, Kurt, I should just - I should just -"

"You should just trust me when I say you're not broken and you don't deserve to die," Kurt interrupted, the sharpness of his voice ruined by an audible shudder. Harry felt little drops of wet hit his scalp as Kurt's voice got more and more unsteady, and the wizard tried to curl up against himself as strong arms tightened around him. "We're going to get through this. I know that you're going to be w-withdrawing from those s-stupid pills he gave you, but you can get over them. You can get over this. I'm not giving up on you Harry Potter, never. You've given me too much and I _love _you too much to let you self-destruct now."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This. Shit. Is. HARD. It's hard to write, hard to edit, and hard to think about in between writing sessions. I honestly don't know if I'm going to be able to get the next chapter up on time next week, guys. I'll try, obviously, but getting the words out is like getting blood from a stone. I know where I'm going, I know how to get there, but this mindset is really, really hard. And I've been going back and reading what I've written and I don't like some of it anymore. I promise I'm trying. I really am. Just don't kill me if the next chapter is a few days late.

* * *

A few hours later found Harry curled up in Kurt's bed, the blankets pulled up over his head. Outside the room he could hear quiet voices, phones ringing, but those noises could barely process above the screaming in his head.

It was like every bad memory he had, every painful thought and feeling he was capable of had decided that now was the best time to be heard. With every breath he could hear his mother screaming and begging, could see Sirius fall backwards through the Veil with still-laughing eyes, could feel every hit and curse thrown at him by enemy and family alike... he couldn't filter any of it out. All he could do was curl up as tight as he could and shake and cry and fear.

Voices saying_ dangerous, monster, __**murderer **_rushed around his head, shouted and screamed and hissed and whispered like prayers._ Freak, useless, made him leave, made him leave._

_I can't do it, _he thought wildly every few minutes, so stuck in the vicious loop he couldn't hear his own heavy breathing._ I deserve this, I deserve __**worse**__, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, so scared so scared can't scream, can't scream, can't wake Uncle so scared-_

Kurt had left to let him rest, but Harry had no idea when. He didn't know what time of day it was. Half the time he barely knew _where_ he was, and only the subtle scent of Kurt on the sheet reminded him.

_Kurt, Kurt, need Kurt with me, shouldn't be with me not good enough, scared scared so scared I want to die, I want to __**die-**_

The sound of the door opening a little made Harry flinch and try to curl up tighter. His shuddering sobs and weak whimpers were, for a moment, the only sound in the room. Then whoever stood in the doorway let out a shaky sigh and spoke.

"Harry?" the familiar voice was a little hoarse, a little hesitant. Footsteps across the soft carpet made Harry shudder, and the sounds paused. "It's Mr Schuester."

Harry felt a painful noise catch in his throat as the footsteps resumed their cautious approach. The teacher's voice remained weak, helpless, "I've - I've been talking to Burt. God, Harry, I'm so sorry."

"He left," Harry heard himself whimper, his hands beginning to tug at his hair. "He took all the medicine and left."

"I know," Mr Schuester sounded oddly choked up, and Harry could feel the bed shift as the man sat down next to him. "I'm so sorry. He was - you did nothing wrong, Harry, you have to know that."

"I made him leave," Harry countered, hands scrabbling for purchase on his scalp. He could feel little pinpricks of pain under his nails, but they seemed so minor, so insignificant compared to the pounding in his head and the burning of his chest.

"No, you didn't, Harry," a hand was resting on Harry's back over the blanket, and the boy found himself being torn between shoving it away, pushing the meddling, comforting man away from him because _it was his fault too _and_ I don't deserve his kindness _and burrowing against the man's chest, begging the man to hold him like he had in the hallway a few days before. Like Remus used to and Burt did.

Like a father would.

"His illness made him leave," Mr Schuester tried to sooth him, and Harry felt a little of the fear and hurt easing at the sound of his voice. "Nothing more. He was just sick - hurt. He did the wrong thing here, Harry, not you."

"I want to die," Harry cringed as the words slipped out of him again. It felt like no matter what he tried to say that phrase would force its way out. It rested on the tip of his tongue, at the front of his mind, burning him with the truth of it. "I just - I'm so scared and so hurt and I keep hurting people and everyone keeps leaving-"

The blanket was suddenly dragged off of him, and Harry found himself being pulled into strong arms. He found himself weeping again as his teacher folded him into a paternal embrace, desperate, pleading words being murmured into his hair.

"Harry,_ don't._ I know, I _know _that things are impossibly hard for you right now but things will get better. You have Kurt, you have the Hummels, you have all your friends in New Directions and you have me, Harry. We're all on your side and we want to help you, god, you're too good of a kid, too good of a _person _to die. None of us are going to leave you, none of us would want to leave you. Your friends are frantic - half of them are downstairs begging to see you, and the other half are in Finn's room working out how they can make this right again. You're safe here, Harry. It's okay, it's going to be okay."

"I'm scared," Harry wept into his teacher's chest, slinging to the man's vest with trembling hands.

"I know," Mr Schuester responded, his voice cracking just a little. "But you're safe now."

He went quiet then, just let Harry cry on him for a while. When the teenager's sobs tapered off and his trembling lessened, the teacher began talking again, "Everyone is worried about you. The club - they didn't understand, Harry. They didn't understand what you have... had to deal with every day. Artie's frantic with guilt - I saw him crying on Tina's shoulder earlier. And Quinn and Rachel haven't let go of one another's hands. Mercedes keeps switching between threatening to gut anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and praying, and Brittany hasn't said a word in hours. Those kids love you, Harry. They've messed up in the last few days, sure, but that doesn't change that you're one of their best friends."

"I shouldn't be. I hurt people," Harry mumbled against Mr Schuester's vest. The teacher's arms tightened around him.

"You help people," the teacher argued, his voice firm in its conviction even as it trembled with emotion. "You stood up for Kurt when you didn't even know him. You treated him like a person when most people treated him like dirt. I hear what you guys talk about in Glee, Harry. I know you checked on Brittany's cat when she thought it was talking to her. I know you helped Puck with his crush on your friend. I know you carried Quinn all the way from the gymnasium to her mom's car when she twisted her ankle in Cheerio practice a few weeks ago. I know you protect all the glee kids from bullies every day. You're a good friend to them. In the time you've been in America, you've accidentally hurt one person who was attacking you anyway. For someone with PTSD, that's a remarkable amount of control."

Harry just shook his head, the roaring in his ears making it hard for him to hear his teacher, let alone believe the comforting words. The teenager didn't notice when he began to drift off to sleep, nor did he feel himself being lowered back against the pillows and the blankets tucked around him. He didn't feel the gentle hand smooth back his hair, or hear the hushed conversation by the door a minute later ("Please, Mr Schue, we need to see him." "I know you're worried, guys, but Harry needs space right now.") He wasn't aware of anything outside of the dark whispers in his head, the swirling memories of blood and fire, and he dropped into an uneasy sleep. He didn't know that Mr Schuester came back into the room once he'd shooed the teenagers away from the door, sitting quietly at Harry's side as the boy slept fitfully, watching over him with tired, grief-filled eyes.

* * *

_He didn't mean to break it, his aunt's favourite vase. In fact, he couldn't remember doing it. He'd been facing the other way on the other side of the room when it smashed, when Dudley starting screaming, "He broke it! The freak broke it!" He was tiny, just a little boy, but his uncle had thundered in and slapped him so hard he fell down. The blows kept coming, and an angry, wordless roar all he could hear as he curled up and tried to protect his face. He didn't understand, couldn't understand what he'd done. He hadn't meant to break the vase, hadn't meant to drag Sirius to the Department of Mysteries, hadn't meant to slip and get Kingsley killed... he looked up through his hands to the man raining blows down on him, but it wasn't his uncle anymore. It was Remus, half-man, half-wolf, face twisted in grief and rage as he tore at Harry's clothing, claws digging in to Harry's side, ripping him apart-_

By the time Harry awoke in terrified tears, Mr Schuester had been replaced by a red-eyed Kurt. The boy was hovering over Harry, wringing his hands as Harry dragged himself out of his nightmare.

"I didn't want to startle you," Kurt stammered as Harry gasped, green eyes darting around the room to orient himself. "You told me once that I shouldn't try to wake you from nightmares, so I thought - I didn't want - yeah. Are you - how are you feeling?"

Harry's voice cracked into a moan as the details of the day came back. He curled up into a little ball under the sheets and buried his face against his arms, shivering a little despite the warmth of the room. Kurt sighed and reached out a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over Harry's hair.

"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question," he muttered. Harry could feel him shifting closer, could feel the weight shift on the bed so Kurt's warmth rested against him. "I'm sorry, I know you're - but it'll get better, okay? Mr Schuester promised to get you cleared from school for as long as you need, and you can stay here - or where ever you want. Just - whatever you need, sweetie, okay? I just want to make you feel better."

Harry's arms relaxed without him noticing, and he found himself reaching over the blanket towards Kurt automatically. Kurt instantly shifted so he was lying alongside his boyfriend, letting Harry cling to his chest and wrapping strong arms around the smaller boy's back.

"I don't know if I can get back from this," Harry whispered, his voice harsh from weeping. His mind was still racing, still clouded, but he felt so safe in Kurt's arms that it all seemed to dull for a moment. Words he had been too hysterical to think of before (ones he had heard during his stay at St Mungos and committed to memory for Remus's sake) began to sink into his mind -_** breakdown, hysteria, suicidal ideation, major depressive episodes combined with stress hallucinations **_- and his fingers tightened on Kurt's shirt. "I can't, I'm - I can't stop shaking-"

"You don't have to," Kurt murmured into his hair. "You just have to focus on feeling better. Is there anything you want? Water, food?"

"Water, please," Harry whispered, reluctantly allowing Kurt to pull away to reach for a glass of water by the bed. The wizard curled his arms around himself, eyes flickering around the room suspiciously. His brain, though less hysterical, was still running in helpless circles, making him curl up against himself again. Little snippits of things he'd learned for Remus' sake last year slithered through his panicked thoughts, flashes of words from books and pamphlets Hermione had found for him. Knowing that he was as Remus had been didn't really help.

_Magic still isn't working, happened to Remus last year - __**when under extreme stress, a wizard or witches' magic will suppress itself in order to prevent magical backlash**__ - but I need it, I need it, I'm nothing without my magic. What if they send me to hospital? I don't want to go to hospital, I feel sick, need a draught but I don't have one, can't get one, need one,_ _**the withdrawal symptoms for severe Calming Draught dependence are varied depending on level of addiction and the magical strength of the person taking them -** Who's voice is that? Outside the door - no. No, no no, don't want anyone in here but Kurt, Kurt is safe, Kurt loves me, he said so. He shouldn't, he shouldn't love me, I'm nothing-_

"Hey, come on," Kurt's soft hands pulled Harry's fingers away from where they were tugging on his hair, pressing the cool glass into his hand firmly. "Drink. You must be parched."

Harry's sweaty hand slipped on the glass, but Kurt held it steady as Harry reluctantly swallowed some water. It felt glorious against his burning throat, but he found himself spluttering a little as he tried to breathe in at the same moment.

"Careful," Kurt warned, pulling the glass away and rubbing Harry's back as he choked. "You okay?"

"Can't even breathe right," he grumbled, tugging away from Kurt's side and digging his nails into his arms. "I just - I can't control my body, Kurt. Why can't I control myself?"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt soothed, bringing the glass back towards Harry. As Harry took another tentative sip the countertenor rubbed his arm. "It's just - you'll feel better soon."

"I think I'm beginning to withdraw," Harry muttered, nausea rising in his throat. There was a faint pounding in his head he hadn't noticed in his hysteria, and it was becoming sharper against his forehead. The wizard squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face against Kurt's shoulder unconsciously. "I feel sick."

"Have a little more water and then lie down," Kurt ordered, the hand on Harry's back fluttering a little. "Is there anything that will make you feel better?"

"Nothing," Harry grimaces as another wave of nausea hit him. When Kurt sighed he flinched, pulling back on himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt. You don't have to do this, you don't have to take care of me-"

"I want to, sweetie," Kurt protested. Harry pulled back, beginning to tremble again.

"You shouldn't. I'm going - I'm going to be a mess, and so sick and in pain, you shouldn't have to deal with that, deal with me, I'm not worth it, Kurt," Harry began to babble, tugging away from his boyfriend weakly, and turning his face away when Kurt tried to catch his eye.

"You are-," Kurt tried again, but Harry's sharp voice cut over him, an edge of hysteria creeping back into his words.

"I'm not, I'm just not, I'm an ugly drug-addled freak and you should leave me, you should just let me die," Harry began to tug at his hair again, nausea giving way to a deep hurt again, and he felt tears stinging in his already burning eyes. He heard Kurt make a distressed noise and put the glass of water down, but he didn't react until Kurt tried to put his arms around him. The wizard curled away, burying his face into his arms and digging his nails into whatever skin he could reach. Kurt clamped his hands down over Harry's to stop him.

"Harry, stop this!"

"I deserve it, you should let me go, Kurt," Harry barely knew what he was saying, his mind swirling again. Kurt didn't budge.

"I'm not letting you go, Harry. I'm not."

"I deserve this, Kurt, I'm a monster-"

"No, Harry, you're not, you're not. You're not a monst-"

"I've killed people."

The words hung in the air for a moment, Harry's throat choking up at the confession. He stopped pulling away from Kurt and instead just sat and shook, waiting for his boyfriend to react. Kurt let out a slow breath against the back of Harry's neck.

"I kind of figured you would have when I worked out that you were a soldier," Kurt shifted, and he cleared his throat. "Sweetheart, I don't - well, I _do_ care, but only because it's hurting you. I know you don't like talking about it but I've been researching the conflict. The people you were fighting - _they_ were monsters, Harry. They were terrorists who killed and maimed innocent people without a seconds' thought. I mean, they, what, attacked a hospital? A school? They were terrorists, and you just did what you had to do. That you're still suffering after all this time, that their deaths matter to you despite everything - that's how I know you're not a monster. It's how I know you're the bravest, strongest person I've ever known."

Kurt's words didn't really register with Harry. His mind was back on the battlefield, on dodging and disarming and trying desperately not to kill. He didn't want to kill, no matter how hard his trainers pushed him, so for much of the war he didn't. Until he did.

The wizard twisted around to face Kurt suddenly, grabbing his boyfriend's arms in small, trembling hands, "I didn't - for so long I didn't, I tried really hard not to k-kill anyone. I'd disarm them and hurt them but I didn't - I didn't _kill _them. I didn't want to be a murderer."

"You were a soldier, Harry, I know you didn't choose it," Kurt assured him, eyes wide and shocked as Harry looked at him wildly, _desperately_. Even though a part of him wanted his boyfriend to run, to leave the wizard before he got hurt, he just couldn't bear the thought of Kurt thinking he was evil.

_I'm not evil, I'm not, don't want to hurt people it just happens, I just wanted to be normal but they made me do it, they made me become their killer, their murderer I didn't want it, I didn't want it-_

"I had to kill him, the leader, or it wouldn't have ended," he babbled desperately, the words tumbling over one another and pouring out of him like a flood. He'd held them in for so long, tried to forget and move on, but he couldn't hold them back any longer. "I _had _to. I didn't want to, Kurt, I _didn't_, even though he hurt so many people but I had to I had to I had to-"

"I believe you, sweetheart," Kurt was obviously trying to sooth the smaller boy, but there was a tremble in his voice that belied his horror. "It's okay-"

"But I didn't have to kill _her_," Harry choked out, not seeing the confusion in Kurt's expression, his mind a thousand miles away, back in a dark rooms with knives and pain and cruel, mad laughter. "Her, the one he - the right-hand - _Bellatrix_..."

"The right - the woman who did this?" Kurt reached up a hand to run his fingertips over the scars on Harry's face. Harry pulled away from the touch, his hands compulsively clenching on Kurt's sleeves.

"I could have disarmed her like the others," he whispered, whimpered, pulling himself closer to Kurt and pushing away again. "I could have broken her arm or knocked her out or something but - I was bleeding so much and she had Ginny and Luna, I just - I just killed her."

Kurt didn't say anything. He just curled his arms around Harry's shoulders and rested them there, waiting to let Harry breathe. After a long moment, when it became apparent that Harry was waiting for his reaction, the countertenor sighed.

"Harry, if you're looking for condemnation for any of this you're not going to find it here," he shrugged a little, smiling weakly at Harry's still desperate look. "I love you. I _know _you. You're one of the best people I know. You're generous and kind and loyal, and just because you were forced to do bad things because of bad circumstances in the past... I'm never going to hate you for that. I'm never going to _blame_ you for that. I mean, heck, what you're describing right now is you killing the person who tortured you in a panic because you were injured and scared and she had some of your friends, did I hear that right?"

Harry shifted a little and nodded, dropping his gaze to Kurt's chest and curling towards the boy unconsciously. Kurt's arms slipped around his waist and tugged the boy closer, almost into his lap. It soothed Harry a little, some of the guilt and pain edging away in favour of the warmth Kurt always brought him.

"I feel sick," Harry mumbled again, curling his fists in Kurt's shirt. Kurt nodded a little, reaching down to wrestle his phone out of his pocket. His fingers flew over the screen for a few moments before he dropped it to the bed, pressing a light kiss to Harry's head.

"I've asked dad to bring up a bucket and a cool wash cloth. We're going to try and make this as easy as possible, okay?" he soothed, and Harry nodded against his chest. The wizard allowed himself to be shifted so he was leaning against the pillows, nausea and pain exhausting him. The constant flitting between hysteria and clarity, between hatred and guilt that made him want to pull away from Kurt and not let the boy near for his own sake to wanting to cling on to his boyfriend and never let go was so exhausting, so mind-numbingly exhausting that he just wanted to curl up into a ball and not wake up. He heard movement outside Kurt's bedroom door and tensed, grabbing Kurt's arm and staring at the door through blurry vision - _where did my glasses go?_

"It's okay, it's just someone with the things I asked for," Kurt patted Harry on the hand and pulled away gently, slipping off of the bed to his feet and towards the door. Harry tugged the blankets up around him, finding a childish sort of safety in their weight on top of him, and he flinched as Kurt opened the door.

"Brittany, what are you-?" Kurt's confused voice drifted over to him, and Harry peeked over to the open door. Brittany stood in silhouette in front of Kurt, a dark shape that was probably Santana just behind her.

"Calm down, Lady Legs, we're not coming in," the Latina girl's voice was gentle despite her words. "Your dad was on the phone, so we volunteered to bring you the stuff you wanted."

"Can I see him?" Brittany's voice was small and sad, and Harry felt a pang in his chest. She sounded like a little girl, confused and scared but trying so hard to be brave. His panic subsided a little, just a little, and he sat up a little straighter. Kurt was hesitating in the doorway.

"Brit, sweetie, I don't know-"

"She can come in," Harry said softly, pulling his blankets up a little higher. He could feel himself begin to tremble a little, the idea of someone other than Kurt getting close terrifying, but the watery smile he could see on her face in the doorway gave him strength. "Just - for a minute or two. I think I'll be okay."

"If you're sure," Kurt agreed reluctantly, stopping Brittany from rushing in with one gentle hand and whispering something in her ear. She crept forward more carefully after that, Santana slipping in afterwards to hand Kurt a bucket. Brittany paused over Harry in the bed, tall and blonde and innocent, and he couldn't help the tremble in his voice.

"I'm okay, Brit," he tried to assure her, but the hoarseness in his voice, the hitch in his breath made it obvious even to Brittany that he was lying. The cheerleader (now dressed in Tinkerbelle pyjamas and fuzzy unicorn slippers) bit her lip.

"Santana says your brain is sick," she blurted out, wringing her hands. "She said that - that you're gonna be away for a while."

"Yeah," he agreed, tugging his blankets nervously. "Yeah, I am."

Brittany looked around despondently, "I don't want you to be away. I like having you in Glee."

"I like being in Glee," Harry murmured back, unsure of what he could say to comfort her. _I'll be back soon, I'll be okay, it won't take long..._ it all sounded so insincere. _I don't know if I can get back from this. I don't know how I can ever feel okay again._

Brittany sniffled a little, shifting next to the bed as though she wanted to hug him but was holding herself back. Her expression hardened a little, becoming determined and brave, and she spoke a little more firmly, "You have to let Kurt take care of you, okay? He made his dad better when his heart was sick so I know he's really good at it. And he makes really tasty soup, too."

A hysterical little giggle bubbled up in Harry's chest at the girl's solemn words, but he managed to nod even as he laughed, "Y-yeah, I know."

She frowned a little, confused, "Why are you laughing?"

"I have no idea," Harry said honestly, his face stretched in a painful, twisted smile. He was still laughing, but his eyes were beginning to water too. "I don't know, my body just keeps - I don't know what I'm doing-"

"Okay, Brit, time to go," Santana interjected, moving forward to grab Brittany's arm and tug her away from the suddenly distressed Harry. Brittany grabbed onto her girlfriend, her eyes wide and frightened as sobs began to wrack Harry's body. He watched with blurry vision as Kurt crawled over the bed towards him, the bucket sitting forgotten on the other side of the room, and the two cheerleaders began to leave. The wizard was dragged into Kurt's arms and muffled his cries against his boyfriend's chest. He could faintly hear Brittany asking Santana what she'd done in a small voice, but he didn't hear the other girl's reply. He did hear the door click shut, and pulled away from Kurt to curl a hand over his heaving stomach.

"I feel sick," was all he could say, and Kurt quickly slipped off the bed to go and grab the bucket. Harry soon found himself with a wonderfully cool wet washcloth over his forehead, soothing the throbbing behind his eyes and taking away some of the nausea.

"Does that feel any better?" Kurt asked as he gently stroked Harry's hair. Harry nodded minutely.

"Uh huh," he muttered, shutting his eyes in the vain hope it would stop his head spinning. "'snice."

"Good," Kurt sighed a little, sinking down so he was curled up next to Harry. "The bucket's next to your hand if you need it."

"I will," Harry admitted in a grunt, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. "Jus' not yet."

Kurt sighed again, scooching closer to Harry's side and resting his chin on Harry's shoulder, "You poor thing. I wish there were something I could do."

"Just be here," Harry pleaded, curling one hand around Kurt's strong arm. He turned his head to the side, making the washcloth slip and pain and nausea spark behind his eyes, but it felt worth it when he saw Kurt next to him. "You make me feel better."

"I'm not going anywhere," Kurt promised, fixing the washcloth back onto Harry's forehead and gently pushing his head back to where it had been. "And if I have to leave for a little while at any point I'll always come back. I promise you, Harry, I'm not leaving you."

"Everyone leaves," he whispered faintly, green eyes staring hopelessly at the ceiling. "Everyone always leaves me."

"I won't," Kurt responded firmly. "Ron and Hermione - no matter how far away they are - haven't left you. Hell, do you realise that the entire club is downstairs, sleeping in my living room?"

Harry's eyes flickered over to Kurt in shock, and the countertenor nodded with a grim smile, "Every single one of them. I don't know if you realise it but it's nearly midnight. They all got their parents to bring their pyjamas and they're refusing to leave."

"They have to leave some time," Harry pointed out, a little kernal of warmth spreading through his chest at the thought of the teenagers downstairs. It never occurred to him that they would care that much, so much that they would stay for him. Kurt was shaking his head, an affectionate smile dancing around his lips.

"I know. They have to go to school tomorrow at least. But they feel so guilty, Harry, that you were hurting so much and they didn't realise. They just want to be there for you, to let you know that they love you."

Harry smiled a little, letting his eyes drift shut again. They snapped open when his stomach revolted, and he barely managed to get his mouth over the bucket at his side before he was throwing up violently.

Tears poured down his face as stomach acid burned his throat, the feeling of his body jolting and burning destroying whatever peace he'd temporarily found. He could vaguely feel Kurt at his back, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blades and resting the damp cloth over the back of his neck. He gasped in ragged breaths between heaves, choking and spluttering as his body began to panic.

"Come on, Harry, deep breaths," Kurt tried to comfort him, but the wizard found himself shaking and gasping as his body rebelled, a sudden irrational fear shooting through him and making him sob.

_Dangerous, body is failing, need to hide and hide and hide but I can't, can't move can't hide unsafe unsafe unsafe -_

"I'm gonna die," he moaned between retches, digging his nails into his palm. Kurt made a distressed noise behind him, still petting Harry's hair helplessly.

"No, you're not. I know you might kind of feel like it right now but you're not," Kurt told him firmly, his hands slipping down to rub Harry's back as he choked. "Come on, just slow that breathing down for me, okay?"

"I can't," Harry gasped out, voice strangled and weak. His stomach heaved again and he gagged, but what little he had eaten in the last 72 hours was already out of him. He ended up dry heaving over the bucket, choking and coughing as Kurt tried in vain to sooth him.

A noise by the door made Harry flinch and cringe away, panic clouding his vision. He kept retching over the bucket as Kurt spoke up.

"Dad."

"He's not doin' too well then?"

"Not great, no."

"Okay. Harry, kiddo?"

Harry flinched and pressed closer to Kurt's side, the heaving subsiding for a moment and allowing him to catch his breath. Burt was standing next to the bed in black sweatpants and an old sweater, looking like he'd been awake for days. Harry looked up at him with blurred vision, his breathing slowing and his panic subsiding as the nausea abated for a moment. Burt waited for a second to make sure the teenager wasn't going to panic before giving him a weak smile.

"That's better. This the drug getting out of your system?" he asked calmly, his voice easy and casual as though he did this all the time. Harry nodded weakly, and Burt nodded. "Okay. Is it okay with you if I go and get Will Schuester? I just want to ask you what we need to expect about this withdrawal stuff, and he should hear it too."

"He's still here too?" Harry rasped out, fingers loosening on the bucket as Kurt tugged it away, putting it beside the bed before pulling Harry close again. Burt chuckled, his smile becoming a little more natural.

"Yeah, he is, and so is half o' Lima! The whole club is here, crashing in the living room. Most of 'em are asleep now, though."

"I don't understand why," Harry whispered, barely aware of the words leaving his lips. He didn't notice the look shared between the father and son, weak eyes staring blankly into space in the dimly lit room. "They shouldn't care."

"But they do," Kurt protested, arms tightening around Harry's narrow body. "You-"

"They shouldn't," Harry hissed, beginning to pull away. Before his dark thoughts pulled at him, before he could dissolve into panic again, large warm hands were grasping his face, forcing him to look up. Burt stared down at him with pained compassion, looking so worried and paternal that it cut through Harry's fear like a knife.

"Hey, now, you gotta keep it together for a minute," he was saying, but Harry barely heard him. "I know you're scared and everything, and you can cry all you want to in a little while, but I need you to hold it back for just another minute so we can take care of you, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered hoarsely, shrinking back against Kurt as Burt let him go and stepped back. "Yeah, I - sorry."

"You got nothing to be sorry for, kiddo," Burt shook his head as he turned around, heading back to the door. "I'm sorry I need to ask you to do this. But it'll only take a minute, okay? Then you don't need to do a thing."

"I need to live," Harry murmured non-sensically. He twitched a bit as he shifted in Kurt's arms, staring into space. "I promised Kurt."

"Yes, you did," Kurt agreed softly, fondly, and Harry suddenly found his glasses being slipped onto his nose. The dim room became clearer, and a glance down showed that he was still in his clothes. "And you'd better keep that promise, sweetheart. I'm holding you to it."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: It's here! It's here. Almost a full week late but I got it done. THANK FUCK. It might be a similar wait for the next chapter I'm afraid. Someone suggested somethings I could do to help get myself into the headspace I need to be in, but I'll be honest - getting into the headspace isn't the problem. Getting out of it is.

I've had hundreds, if not over a thousand anxiety attacks. I've been depressed. Getting my self into Harry's brain isn't actually the hard bit, it's making sure I don't go in so far I can't get out that worries me. In some ways writing this was cathartic, letting me express the sheer mindless terror I've had to get used to in the last ten years, but in other ways it's kind of like walking on a type rope. Whilst on fire. Freaking impressive if I manage it, going to be a bit of a fucking mess if I don't.

I've started on the next chapter all ready, and it's a complex one artistically. I hope people can keep up. For now, here's chapter 12 - in which things continue to suck for Harry.

* * *

"I'll try," Harry agreed idly, feeling rather light headed. _Probably from the throwing up and the not eating and the going from scared to okay to scared and everything all the time. I'm so tired. I'm __**so **__tired._ He frowned down at his jeans, swaying a little where he sat. "Kurt? Can I borrow some pyjamas? My jeans aren't comfortable to sleep in."

"Sure, Harry, I'll grab them in a minute," his boyfriend squeezed Harry's shoulder when the door opened again and Mr Schuester and Burt slipped back in. Harry tensed against him and clutched at the blanket that had slid down to his legs, pulling it over himself and Kurt with jerky movements and clinging to the edge of it. The two men politely ignored his childish attempt to comfort himself, instead sitting at Kurt's desk and at his vanity with carefully blank expressions.

"Hey, Harry," Mr Schuester greeted him with gentle cheer, leaning forward on Kurt's vanity stool. "I'm going to be helping out for the next couple of days, so we just need to know what we're going to be dealing with. Is that all right with you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded a little, tugging nervously on the blanket. "Yeah, I'll - what do you need to know?"

"How long's it gonna take to get these drugs out of your system?" Burt began, his voice firm. Harry's response was automatic, parroting the information he'd been given by his therapist last year.

"A week," he rasped. "I mean, it'll be months before I stop wanting it but - but - the really bad symptoms should only last a few days. It's - it's fast."

"What kinds of 'really bad' symptoms are we talking about?" Burt prompted, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

"Nausea, dizziness, fever, weakness, anxiety, headaches, stomach cramps, and fainting," he recited, his hands clenched in the blankets hard enough that he could feel the material stretching. He cringed when he heard Mr Schuester let out a long breath and Burt make an unhappy noise. "And since I won't have anything making me calm I'll be - I'll be scared and stuff. You don't - you don't have to deal with it if you don't want to."

Burt snorted, rolling Kurt's desk chair far enough forward that he could clap a hand on Harry's knee over the blanket, "If you really think we'd leave you to deal with that crap on your own, you're crazy."

"Remus did," Harry pointed out, curling back against Kurt helplessly. "He left me."

"We're not going to," Mr Schuester leaned forward as well, not reaching out but pinning Harry with a firm gaze. "Harry, I promise you, we're not going to abandon you."

"Why?" Harry's voice cracked and he stared blankly back at his teacher. "Don't you get it? Everyone leaves because they _should_. I don't deserve - I don't - "

Warm lips on his temple made his breath catch and his vicious words trail off. Kurt's arms tightened around him so much that it almost hurt, but it was a welcome sensation amongst the nausea and weakness.

"Sweetheart, we're not going anywhere," Kurt whispered once again, his voice thick with repressed tears. Harry cringed at the sound of his boyfriend's pain, knowing that he was the cause, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the comfort he was affording. "Just let us do this, please. We want to help you."

_I'm not worth it._

Harry's eyes flickered helplessly around the room, taking in Burt's grim expression and Mr Schuester's damp eyes. He could vaguely hear noises downstairs, whispers that reminded him of the whispers coming from the Veil, and he dragged the blanket closer to him. The adults shared a look across the room, and Kurt sniffled near Harry's ear.

"Harry," Burt eventually began, shifting on his chair and looking over at the shivering teenager again. "We're gonna need to do some planning, but I'm gonna explain what's gonna happen, okay?"

Harry didn't respond, so Burt just sighed and went on anyway, "Me and Schuester are gonna take some time off work. We both got time saved up, so don't you worry about that, okay? Between the two of us, Kurt, and Carole, someone will always be with you to help you get through this. With me so far?"

"You don't have to do this," Harry whispered weakly, but Burt ignored him.

"You can stay here as long as you need to, and Schuester will work on getting any legal stuff clear. You're gonna be fine, kiddo. I promise you now, we're not going anywhere until we're sure you are."

There was a pause as the two men waited to see if Harry would react. When he didn't, Burt sighed again and rubbed his face, "Kurt's going to stay in here with you tonight, Harry. I'm pretty sure I can trust you two not to be inappropriate right now."

"Dad!" Kurt yelped, and Harry couldn't help the flicker of a smile that crossed his face at the blush he could almost hear light up Kurt's face. "Oh my God, really?"

"You can stay in here, Kurt, so cool it," the man rolled his eyes as Mr Schuester hid a smile in his hand. "Harry, I figure you're gonna be doing a lot of sleeping, but just let one of us know if you need to go the bathroom or whatever."

"I'm tired," Harry muttered nonsensically, and Kurt shifted behind him. "Kurt, can you - I mean, can I...?"

"Sure, sweetie, just let me grab them. I promised him I'd let him borrow some pyjamas," he explained to the adults as he shuffled off the bed. Mr Schuester stood at that and shot Harry a weak smile as Kurt rummaged through his drawers.

"I'll let you rest, then. I'll be back tomorrow morning, Harry. Hope you sleep well," he nodded to Burt and said a quiet goodbye to Kurt as he slipped out the door, and Burt stood as well.

"You just shout if you need help," Burt directed the question at Harry, but the wizard could see the way Kurt turned to listen, the way Burt glanced at his son; he didn't know if Kurt could handle it. Kurt shut his drawer closed with a snap and turned, mouth pinched.

"We'll be fine, right, Harry?" Kurt didn't seem to expect an answer, just sweeping across the room to drop a shirt and sweatpants onto his bed. "Good night, dad. I'll see you in the morning - well, later in the morning."

"Goodnight, Kurt," Burt said reluctantly, slowly making his way towards the door. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry reluctantly loosened his grip on the blanket as the door closed with a click. Kurt turned his lamp on after a moments' fumbling, the bright light making Harry's head throb and his eyes water.

"Sorry, sweetie, but I can't see a thing without it. I'll turn it off as soon as I can," Kurt soothed, helping the swaying Harry stand and pressing a cool hand to the boy's flushed forehead. "Gucci, you're burning up. Can you get into the sleep things okay?"

"Yes," Harry slurred, shutting his eyes against the way the room spun and tilted. He raised his hands to the front of his shirt and tried to pull it over his head. The movement knocked him off balance and sent him sprawling back onto the bed, his t-shirt tangled over his eyes. He vaguely heard Kurt made a distressed sound from across the room, and before he could struggle too much his t-shirt was being tugged off of him, and another soft long-sleeved shirt was eased over his arms and head. Kurt was leaning over him, folding the t-shirt with one hand as he tugged the new shirt over Harry's chest, and he turned away to give Harry some privacy.

"I'll just leave these here, give me a shout if you need help," he murmured, resting the pair of sweatpants he'd been juggling next to Harry and walking over to his dresser. Harry managed to wrestle off his jeans with a few weak kicks and a little light-headedness, and he pulled the sweatpants on slowly. It felt better to be in the thin cotton clothes rather than his own, cooler and lighter on his increasingly sensitive skin, and he half dragged himself back towards to pillows to bury his face in the sheets.

"Oh, good," he heard Kurt say behind him, already beginning to drift off. "I'm going to join you in a little while, I have to do my moisturising routine."  
Harry grunted his understanding against the pillow, enjoying how the cool surface felt on his flushed face. He dozed, nausea and dizziness clouding the edges of his mind, until he heard the light click off and felt Kurt crawl in next to him. He rolled over to look his boyfriend in the eyes. He felt tears begin to well as he stared at Kurt, faint tremors rocking through him as fever began to burn in his blood.

"Things are going to get much worse," he whispered weakly, raising a trembling hand to rest on Kurt's chest. "So much worse."

"I know, sweetheart," Kurt soothed, brushing a lock of hair away from Harry's damp forehead. "But after things get worse, they'll get better. And I'll be here all the way. I promise you."

* * *

_He could see the castle burning, flames and smoke plumes billowing out from the stone. He stood, helpless, listening to the screams and cries of all the dead - no-one made it out alive. He stood on the shore of the lake, staring up at Hogwarts, his home, as it burned._

_Something was dragging him back towards the lake, cold rotting hands with talon like claws that pulled and tore as they pulled him back towards the tumultuous black water. There were just so many bodies in the waves, bodies with red hair and freckled faces burned almost beyond recognition. He couldn't swim, _needed _to swim, but the hands were dragging him down and under the thick, gluggy water. He thrashed and fought but they pulled him under, made him open his eyes and see the corpses floating around -_

"Jesus, Kurt, what's happening? Is he having a fit?"

"No, I think it's just a nightmare, but don't touch him. He'll lash out."

_- had to get away, had to pull away from the clawing, grasping hands and get to the surface so he could breathe, he couldn't breathe -_

"He's going to hurt himself! Can't we just-"

"Dad, no! Just - trust me, okay? He told me once never to wake him up from a nightmare, only Ron and Hermione can do it without him hurting them. We just - have to wait it out."

_- voices on the edge of his consciousness, he could escape if he could get to the voices but that way is sickness and pain and it would be so easy to stop fighting and just drown -_

"Come on, sweetie, please wake up. It's not real, Harry, none of it is. Harry, please."

_Kurt._

Harry opened his eyes, the darkness of his dreams giving way to a piercing, painful light. He could vaguely hear himself cry out and twist away, caught up in the bed sheets like a dog in a net, and he barely managed to roll over to his side before he was heaving.

Kurt rested a hand on his back soothingly, rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades as he retched. There wasn't anything in his stomach left to vomit, so he just drooled and choked and cried.

"Can you get him some cold water, please? He feels too warm," Kurt murmured quietly behind him, and Harry could hear Burt let out a shaky sigh.

"Yeah, I'll just - should I get Carole? Will she be able to do something?"

"Probably not," was the tired reply from the countertenor, and the mechanic just sighed again and shuffled out of the room. Harry sobbed over the sheets as he became more aware of the rolling sickness, the chills, the pain blooming in his stomach and behind his eyes.

_Hurts, can't stop gagging, I feel sick I feel sick..._

"Try to slow your breathing, sweetheart," Kurt rubbed a hand over Harry's back again. The wizard could kind of feel him moving off the bed, and suddenly there wasn't his comforting warmth behind Harry any more. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing, managing to get it relatively under control by the time Kurt slid back next to him with a cloth.

"You just need to sleep it off," Kurt muttered as he wiped the sweat and drool off of Harry's face. "Right? Just a few days of this and the worst of it is done."

_Worst, no no no, this isn't the worst, it'll get worse so much worse I just want to sleep and sleep and not wake up and it hurts, it hurts so much I feel sick, I feel sick, I want to die and go away I just want to be left alone I should be alone so pathetic, so dangerous, look at what I am, look at me I'm falling apart-_

Harry just whimpered as his stomach twisted and cramped, curling up a little more with a dry sob. He flinched violently when the door opened, twisting in the already tangled sheets to look over his shoulder wildly.

_Someone here, no one should be here I don't want to get hurt please don't hurt me please don't don't don't don't -_

Harry wrapped himself in the tangled sheets and blankets as tightly as possible, barely peeking out from his safe little nest to actually see who had walked into the room. Burt had slowed to a stop in the doorway as the teenager tried to cringe away from him, slowly raising the glass of water in his hand so Harry could see it.

"I'm just going to hand this to Kurt, all right kiddo?" the man soothed, slowly passing the glass to his son without taking his eyes off the shivering lump on the bed. "You boys need anything else?"

"I don't think so," Kurt murmured, tugging on Harry's blanket to try and find the boy underneath. Harry pulled it back over himself with a frightened moan, an irrational panic rising at the thought of leaving his little cocoon. Kurt let out a frustrated breath, exhaustion and distress making his hands tremble and his words slip out of his harshly. "Harry, come on. You need to drink something."

Harry flinched at his boyfriend's tone, curling up tighter.

"I don't think that's going to help, buddy," Burt murmured, and for a moment Harry wasn't sure if he was talking to him or to Kurt. Then Kurt sighed weakly and placed a gentle hand on Harry's back.

"...I know. I'm just tired," Kurt voice was a little shaky, a little raw. Harry felt guilt well up in him like a wave at the weakness in his boyfriend's words. He knew why the other boy was tired.

_I'm hurting him, I'm hurting him, he wouldn't have to do this if not for me..._

"Harry, please just take a sip," Kurt pleaded softly above him, weak under the ringing in his ears. "Please? For me?"

_For him. _

Harry hesitantly allowed the blanket to be pulled down, trembling hard as Kurt slowly, cautiously raised the glass to his lips. The water was sweet and cold in his dry mouth, his ravaged throat. He drank for as long as he could bring himself to, taking short sips at Kurt's quiet encouragement, before he finally had to pull away.

"'m scared, Kurt," he bit out over the lump in his throat. The wizard couldn't hear how uneven and scratchy his voice was, how he was loud then whisper-quiet in less than a second - he barely knew that he was speaking. "'m so scared and I don't know how it's gonna end, I don't know whas' goin' on and I just - I wanna die, I don't wanna do this-"

"I know, sweetie, but it's going to get better," Kurt whispered, brushing sweaty hair off of Harry's face. A sob wrenched out of Harry's throat and he grabbed at Kurt's silky pyjama sleeve. He tugged his boyfriend down by his side weakly, burying his face against Kurt's chest. Strong, slender arms curled around him and pulled him close. The door shut quietly, but Harry still jumped and whimpered, making Kurt hurry to sooth him.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay. It was just dad leaving," the taller boy lightly stroked Harry's back until his trembling eased a little. Kurt stifled a yawn over Harry's head. "Do you think you can sleep anymore?"

_Sleep - dark images, bodies in the water - no no no, don't want to sleep, don't want to sleep but Kurt is tired he's so tired he should sleep, just wanna lie here and hold him and feel better when am I going to feel better -_

"Just - can't sleep. I can't," Harry muttered, twisting his hands in Kurt's pyjama top. "But you - you need to, so-"

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'm young, I can manage one sleepless night-" Kurt protested, but Harry shook his head.

"No, no you need to sleep, Kurt. I just wanna lie here with you, I can do that while you sleep-"

"-I'll just think of it as practice for college, I'll have plenty of sleepless nights then-"

"It'll ruin your skin."

Kurt paused then, and Harry idly stroked the silky material on his back. He found himself getting distracted by the feel of it; it was smooth and cool under his hands, despite the heat of Kurt's skin under it. It felt good on his itchy, stinging skin;_ Silk is soft, I like it. I like the silk. It feels nice. Soothing._Harry was snapped out of his tactile musing by a chuckle from Kurt that rumbled through his chest.

"Even hysterical and half delirious out of your mind, you still know me so well," he murmured affectionately, and Harry felt a gentle kiss being pressed to his head. "Okay, I'll try to sleep. But you wake me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed automatically, still gently feeling the silk. "Can I keep - I like the silk, it feels soft against the pain, can I keep touching it?"

Kurt paused for a moment, "Feeling my pyjamas is helping?"

Harry nodded bashfully, his hands spasming against Kurt's back, "I'so soft, and it's cool, and my skin hurts and itches and it's too hot but it feels like - i's soothing, is all. Like you but a fabric. I's like a fabric you."

There was a muffled giggle above Harry's head, but the wizard ignored it. It really was helping, strange as it was. He felt less anxious, less sick, more together when the material was underneath his hands, and he even managed to smile a little at Kurt's affectionate, "All right then. You can keep touching my shirt as much as you like. I'm going to try and get to sleep now, I have to be up in three hours."

"Mmm," was all Harry could mumble as he rubbed his face against Kurt's chest. He stayed quiet as Kurt's breathing slowed and his arms became dead weight on top of Harry. The darkness of the room felt claustrophobic, oppressive, but when he was curled up with Kurt it felt better. Manageable. He could still feel the edge at the back of his mind, could still feel himself dangling on the precipice of anxiety and hysteria, but he focused his feverish, confused mind on the soft silk under his hands and on Kurt's steady breathing and he held on.

_Just a few hours 'til sunrise, one day down, will it get worse? Will it get worse than this? Worse than so close, so close to panicking and screaming and can't think, can't think straight at all and want to die, want to get out of Kurt's way and Kurt's life and not hurt anyone anymore but I promised Kurt I would live, just gotta hold on..._

As the minutes dragged by Harry just kept twitching and shaking. Kurt's breathing slowed down as he drifted off, his grip around Harry's back loosening but not feeling any less solid. He must have been completely exhausted - he didn't even twitch when Harry's arm spasmed and flinched against his side.

_Stop that, gotta stop moving, I'll wake him up and he's only tired because of me but I can't stop, just keep twitching twitch twitch my body won't listen why won't it listen stop stop __**stop**__._

Harry turned his face towards the already damp pillowcase and whimpered into the fabric. He was sweating constantly as the withdrawal tore through his system. He felt hot and cold and his blood ached and he would have liked nothing better than to just die in his sleep but he'd promised Kurt, so he held on.

He focused on running his trembling hands over the smooth silk on Kurt's back. He focused on the subtle scent of something sweet and musky from Kurt's moisturisers and lotions, those things that bemused Harry but made the pale skin he so loved to caress softer than he could believe. He focused on the gentle sounds of Kurt's breathing, punctuated by little snores every so often, and ignored the roaring and rushing in his head as best he could.

The hours dragged on but eventually he could see light glowing from the bottom of Kurt's curtains. Harry hadn't slept at all, terrified of the nightmares and needing the comfort Kurt was bringing him. He'd slept so much in the last few days he'd vaguely thought it wouldn't be hard to stay up for the last few hours until dawn, but he'd underestimated his body's weakness. His eyes burned and his head hurt, and the hours of oppressive dark and quiet had made him paranoid and hypervigilent; every creak and shadow flickering made him jump and cringe, cuddling closer to Kurt's chest. Kurt hadn't stirred at all. He'd muttered in his sleep a few times and shifted in Harry's grip, but he hadn't seemed disturbed by his cling-on. The wizard was relieved - he'd tried so hard not to wake his boyfriend with his shivering and twitching.

A sudden sharp, loud noise shocked a cry out of Harry's dry throat. He twisted in the blankets, jerking Kurt closer towards him and pulling away from the sound in one movement. His heart rate and his breathing started to race, and Kurt's surprised yelp only spurred his fear.

_No no no unsafe, gotta escape, gotta escape, trapped trapped trapped-_

"Harry, what- no, you'll fall off the bed, just calm down."

_Kurt, pull him down don't let him get hurt don't away don't like it scared scared scared-_

"Okay, sweetie, deep breaths. Harry, you're hyperventilating. Come on, everything is fine, you're just tangled in the sheet, okay? Slow down a second -

_No no wrong not fine noise don't like the loud noise make it stop-_

"Don't - like - it."

"What?"

_Make it stop make it stop make it stop -_

"Noise noise _noise-_"

"Oh what - Harry, that was just my alarm, it wasn't - everything is fine, I'll turn it off."

_Make it stop._

"Kurt? Everything okay in there?"

"Everything's fine, Finn, go away."

"Are you sure, dude? We heard you scream from downstairs-"

"My alarm scared Harry, that's all."

_Stopped, no more noise that's better, not so scared, calm down no no no don't open the door who's there, who's there-_

"Don't come in!"

"Kurt, it's me-"

"I don't care, dad, don't scare him like that! Harry, sweetheart, it's just my dad, everything is fine. My alarm is off, you're safe, there's nothing to be afraid of. That's it, that's better. Just slow your breathing down."

_Okay, okay okay I'm okay, everything is okay calm down, slow down, slow down down down I feel sick god why won't it stop-_

Harry's breathing slowed as the anxiety attack settled, but he still found himself moaning and curling up as nausea hit him like a truck. He slumped back to the bed, barely aware of Kurt's alarmed cry and Burt rushing into the room as his eyes rolled back in his head. He didn't pass out - pain shot through his head before he could, jolting him awake.

"Harry, kid, what hurts?" Burt's worried voice and rough hands on his shoulders only just registered through the onslaught of sensation - hurts hurts hurts too hot too close just wanna gonna be sick, gonna be sick - but Harry heard it and managed to gasp out a weak answer.

"Head. Stomach. Feel sick," he curled as far inward as he could, trying to escape the pain that had suddenly decided to take up residence behind his eyes. Kurt made a sympathetic noise and Burt shifted closer to the bed.

"Do you feel like you could get anything down? You need to eat something," the man leaned over to press a hand on Harry's sweaty forehead, shifting back when the boy flinched away.

"No, I can't -" Harry's stomach rolled at the thought of food and he curled inward. "'feel sick."

"Kurt, get ready for school, I got this," Burt's voice was quiet behind him. Kurt made a protesting noise but was apparently quietened by his father's Look. "We're gonna have enough trouble keepin' Harry out of hot water for missin' school, we can't let you and Finn do it too."

"All right," Kurt mumbled reluctantly, and Harry could hear him shuffling towards the door. "Harry, I'll just be having a shower, my dad can get me if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," Harry's voice was uncomfortably small from where his head was tucked, and he jumped when a large hand landed gently on his shoulder. He curled away from it, then into it, unable to tell if the pressure was calming him or frightening him. He stammered out a mumble when he heard the door closed. "I don't think - I promised Kurt I would get better but - I feel so sick, Burt, so sick and my head hurts so much and this isn't even the worst of it."

"I know, kiddo," Burt soothed him, letting Harry burrow into his side. His strong arm wrapped around Harry's back and stayed there, a firm, comforting pressure. "You're doing great so far. Just focus on feeling better, all right?"

Harry nodded into Burt's chest, content to sit and shiver for the moment. He flinched at a gentle knock on the door, pressing against the mechanic more tightly and gripping the man's shirt. Burt patted him on the back as the door creaked open a little.

"Harry? It's Carole," a soft, warm voice called. Harry relaxed a little, peeking out to check with worried eyes. The woman hovered in the doorway, a tray with a few blurry lumps on it in her arms. When it became clear Harry wasn't overly frightened she slipped in, bumping the door closed with her hip. She made her way over to the bed slowly, carefully, keeping an easy, sympathetic smile on her face.

"I've got you something that should help you feel better, honey," she murmured, coming over to rest the tray next to Harry on the bed. Harry squinted at the tray, noting a bright orange stick and what looked like some toast. Carole picked up the stick and pressed it into Harry's hand gently. "This is a popsicle with electrolytes in it, it should help you feel better after all the throwing up you did last night."

Harry kept a tight grip on the icy stick, bringing it up to his face impulsively and resting it against his forehead.

"Uh, Harry?" Burt sounded confused, and Harry tried to explain himself.

"M'head is hot," he slurred softly, rubbing the Popsicle wrapper over his face. "I feel too hot. S'nice."

"I'll get you an ice pack, just try to eat the Popsicle, okay?" Carole tried to tug Harry's wrist away from his face as she got up, and Harry reluctantly allowed the Popsicle to stop near his mouth. It was almost sickly sweet when he licked at it, but it was cold and didn't make him want to throw up, so he bit off a piece anyway. When Carole came back with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel a few minutes later Harry had gotten about a quarter of it down. "How's that feel, sweetie?"

"Okay," Harry muttered, reaching for the icepack gratefully. "I just feel so hot."

Carole made a sympathetic noise, and Burt manoeuvred Harry back to the bed. Harry made a quite noise of discomfort as his stomach rolled unpleasantly, but he felt soothed by Burt's rough hand patting his cheek. When Harry's grip slipped on the ice pack the mechanic caught it before it could hit his face, gently resting it on Harry's feverish forehead. Despite the nausea making a reappearance and the fever roaring through him, Harry smiled.

"It feels nice," he murmured, barely aware that he was talking, and less aware of the looks being exchanged over his head. "Bein' taken care of. No one ever really - I've never really been taken care of before."

"Really? Not even-" Carole cut herself off at a look from Burt, but Harry didn't notice. Whether it was the fever or the exhaustion loosening his tongue he'd never know, but he began to mutter brokenly under his breath.

"The Dursleys – they didn't take care o' me. They jus' – they made me take care of them, even when I was really little. I mean, Ron and 'Mione tried, you know, but they're kids too. I never – I didn't think I'd like it but 'snice, having someone care like this. 'slike having family."

Harry didn't hear Carole's little sniffle or feel Burt shift uncomfortably next to him. He just let his eyes slide shut with the popsicle resting on his chin and the ice pack on his head and slipped back into sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: This was both the most emotionally challenging and technically complicated chapter to write (hence the lateness) (although that also has something to do with the fact that we are in a massive bloody heatwave here and it's been 40 degrees Celcius for the last three days in a row and close to it for the last week). I have no doubt that some people will get confused in this chapter, so take it slow and look carefully for cues because this chapter is **DIALOGUE AND DREAMS ONLY**. There are no, "He saids," no physical descriptions, just conversations between multiple people at different times so yeah, it gets a bit muddled. To be honest, that's the point. It spans many days, many dreams, and Harry is totally non-compus so he has no idea what's going on. I've left cues and hints in every dream and conversation to show that time is passing and who exactly is talking, but because Harry is confused and doesn't know what's happening the reader needs to have an element of that too. I was worried it would be too complex, but my Beta readers told me to give my readers some credit and not just low-ball it for the lowest common denominator. Enjoy!

* * *

_The castle is burning. Chunks of roof are slipping off and crashing inside, and the walls themselves sound like they're screaming. Deatheaters are holding Harry back, laughing as he struggles to get away, get inside, help the people trapped in the crumbling building. Don't they know it's a school? Don't they know that children, some of __**their **__children, are inside? Harry is fighting, struggling, but the hands that are binding him don't let go, even as the fire gets closer, even as heat is licking up Harry's sides and burning him..._

"Harry, kiddo, calm down, it's just a dream. Can you hear me? It's Burt. You're just dreaming, Harry, it's not real."

_...he has to get free and get to the school, stop the roof from falling and the walls from screaming and the people from burning he had to..._

"I hav't..."

"What was that, buddy? Stop struggling, now, you're okay."

"I have t'..."

"What do you have to do, Harry?"

"Have t' stop the burning..."

"Are you too hot? I'll get you another ice pack in a second - "

"Have t' stop the fire, Tonks, there's kids in there..."

"...Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Get me in the building, tha's an order. I don' care how dangerous it is, _that's an order_. You get me into the school, I have to..."

"...Harry. It's Burt. You're in Lima, okay? You're in Kurt's room, and you're safe. You're safe now."

_Burning. He's burning up with the building, with the Deatheaters and the students and his soldiers and he can't do anything to stop it. He burns and he burns as minutes tick by and hours tick by an he should be dead but instead he just burns until he's - _

_Cold. Cold rotting hands are caressing at his face and he can't get his hands free to cast his Patronus. He's so cold and it's everywhere, all over, he has to get away..._

"Harry, shh, you're just tangled in the blankets. Just give me a second."

_Hands are grabbing at him, he has to get away, fight them off -_

"Whoa! You okay, Schuester?"

"I'm fine, Burt, he didn't hit me that hard."

"Kurt says you shouldn't touch him when he's having a nightmare like this."

"Apparently. Do you think we can untangle him from the sheet? I think it's upsetting him."

"Maybe if we're careful..."

_Their grip is loosening on him and he can move, he can curl away but the cold is following him. He has to escape, has to get away, he's on his feet and he has to get out of the dungeon, when did he get to the dungeon? But he has to get out, he has to get his troops out -_

"Hey, no, lie back down Harry, just go back to bed-"

"I have t' get, gotta get out-"

"Burt, is he awake or not?"

"I dunno, maybe sleepwalking? Harry, c'mon, you need to lie down again."

_He's sick, he feels so damn sick but he has to get them out, can't let them down, everyone is counting on him so he has to get out-_

"Harry. Harry, it's Burt Hummel again. You need to lie down, okay? You're sick, you're - you're hallucinating or something, but you're safe and you need to lie down."

_He could feel his legs collapse out from underneath him - had the Dementors sapped that much of his strength? But he had to keep going, he had to, he couldn't let them down, even as his head swum and his stomach roiled and a deep pain sunk into his bones... he couldn't stop._

"Whoa, hey, have you got him?"

"Yeah, Schuester, don't worry. He's not heavy."

"No, no I can't lie down, hafta... I gotta get... I gotta get them out..."

_...he has to get them out, he can hear Wheeler screaming in the next room, what are they doing to him he has to get out but Tonks and Eades are holding him back, they won't let him go to him but he can save him, he can save him if they only let him go..._

"Tonks, lemme go, we're not leaving him here. Tha's an order, we're not... we're not..."

"Harry? Burt, who is he talking to?"

"I dunno, Schuester, he called me that earlier too."

"I won' leave 'im... I won' leave anyone behind. We risk it. I won' leave any of you behind. I promised I'd get ev'ryone home so - so we _will_. We risk it."

"...Burt, what is he talking about?"

"I don't know, Schuester. It sounds like... I dunno. Let's just - can you straighten the sheets? I'll try to get him back to bed."

"Yeah, I - yeah."

_He needs to... he needs to save Wheeler but he's so tired, he feels so sick, he can't stand anymore and there's rough hands helping him against a soft, cool surface and he can't help but slip into darkness..._

"He was... he said 'that's an order,' didn't he?"

"Yeah, he - uh. He said that earlier too. Before you got here. Look, Schuester, it's probably just the fever talking-"

"There were rumours - last year, when the English attacks were still happening, about the government training children-"

"I don't think-"

"Burt, I've wondered, he's got so many scars and he's so good in a crisis -"

"Schuester -"

"I suspected there was more going on than he let on, but - "

"Stop, all right? Maybe he's just hallucinating. Hell, maybe he's dreaming. Just - we don't know anything, all right? Just forget about it for now."

"But Burt, isn't it something we should know if we're taking care of him? That he might have a soldier's trauma?"

"I think that if it's true it's probably not something he's meant to talk about. Look, all we know is that he's a traumatised kid who's really sick right now. Does it matter how he got like this?"

"I guess it doesn't right now."

"We'll ask Kurt when he gets home, okay? Just... forget about it. For now."

"...all right. I really hope you know what you're doing, Burt."

"Schuester, I don't have a goddamn clue."

_When it gets light again he felt so sick, why did he feel so sick? He needed to get out of his cupboard and make breakfast for his Uncle, he didn't want to make Uncle Vernon angry, he was so hungry and he hadn't eaten in days so he needed to get up and cook but he just felt so sick..._

"Hey dad, Mr Schue."

"Hey, Kurt."

"How was school, buddy?"

"I don't want to talk about it. How has he been?"

"Restless. He's in and out, doesn't seem to know where he is. Schuester and me have been trying to keep him in the bed but he keeps jumping out."

"Has he thrown up any more?"

"A little. Kurt, has Harry ever said anything to you-"

"Schuester-"

"I'm sorry, Burt, but don't we need to know what we're dealing with?"

"Not now."

"What are you guys talking about? Dad?"

"Look, kiddo, when Harry was freaking out he was... saying some stuff."

"...stuff like what?"

"He was talking to people who weren't here. He kept calling Burt "Tonks" and telling us... saying he was giving orders."

"...oh."

"He might have just been hallucinating, Schuester, we don't know what he was seeing."

"My dad's right, Mr Schue, if he's having nightmares he could be seeing anything-"

"But he said the same thing to Burt earlier, 'that's an order,' didn't he? He keeps repeating that. Kurt, has he said anything to you about..."

"About what, Mr Schue?"

"...what do you know about the English child soldiers?"

"..._fuck_."

_The forest wasn't safe for children, it wasn't where they should be but they were running into the forest, through the trees, trying to escape the cruel laughter of the Deatheaters. Harry was running towards them, trying to reach the forest before the Dementors hiding in the trees could get them but it was like he was running in place. No matter how hard he ran, how much his legs strained he couldn't get to the screaming children, his classmates, his friends. The forest wasn't a haven but they just kept pouring in..._

"You can't say anything."

"Kurt - "

"I mean it, dad. You either, Mr Schuester, I don't want to hear a word about it. Do not discuss it between yourselves, do not tell Carole or Ms Pillsbury, and do not go telling anyone else, you understand?"

"Kurt, of course we do. We don't want to do anything to put Harry at risk-"

"Mr Schuester, that you've _worked it out_ puts Harry in danger. He said that if the British Government finds out that people know who he is they'll make him 'disappear', and if that happens I will entirely blame _you_."

"Kurt, calm down. We'll keep it quiet, okay? I won't even tell Carole. Just tell us."

"...fine. Fine. He was - let me get my file."

"File?"

"My kid likes to be organised."

"I see."

"Here. I destroyed most of the stuff when he confirmed my suspicions, but I kept one article. Don't read it aloud, just... look at it."

"...Jesus Christ, kiddo, you sure about this?"

"Yes. He confirmed it."

"So all that stuff about his old family-"

"It's true, Mr Schuester. He didn't lie to us. He lived with them until he was 11 and over summers but during the year he was at his school. The boarding school he went to was for... special kids. Like him. Fighters. But he was the only one who was trained so extensively. He was some kind of general or something."

"But why? He's just a kid."

"I don't know, dad. He didn't know either, but he hated it."

"God, that poor thing."

"So now you know. And I don't want to hear another word about it, okay?"

"We won't say anything, Kurt, you can trust that."

"I hope so, Mr Schuester. I really do."

_Time passes. It's dark and then it's light and then it's hot, it's too hot the hospital burns, it's burning and it's screaming, there's so much screaming why is there nobody stopping them, why is nobody stopping the Deatheaters from cutting everybody down? It's just Harry again, just Harry on his own against an army and he doesn't know how long he can hold on..._

"Hey, Kurt."

"Quinn? What are you doing here? - I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine. I'm sorry for just barging in like this, I just... wanted to see for myself. Oh God, he's so pale. So pale and so thin and - what happened to his face?"

"He keeps scratching at it when he dreams, we can't make him stop. Look, Quinn, I get that you want to see him but it's probably best for everyone if you leave. Having people around unsettles him as it is, and it's just going to upset you."

"How could we let this happen, Kurt? How could we let him get this bad - god, I can't even..."

"Oh sweetie, don't cry. He's going to be fine."

"I know he is, he has to be, it's just - he's so little, Kurt. I just want to protect him."

"So do I, Quinnie, so do I."

"Why is he making that noise?"

"He's in pain, I think. He does that a lot."

"Can't you do something?"

"Not really. He throws up every painkiller we try to give him, and he doesn't have any food in his stomach anyway so we really shouldn't - "

"Don't you start crying now Kurtie. You'll set me off again."

"Sorry, I'm just so tired and so worried -"

"Hey, hey, I was kidding. You cry if you need to, Kurt. You have every right to cry right now. I know how hard this is on you, and we're here for you. For both of you. I promise."

"Thank you - Harry?"

"Is he awake? God, what's he doing? Why is he scratching like that?"

"He's just scared, I'm sorry, Quinn, you need to go."

"Why is he screaming, Kurt? Oh God, what did I do-"

"Quinn, just leave! Get out of here, you're scaring him! Harry, sweetheart, it's okay, it's just us, she's gone. Everyone's gone."

_Everything burned, burned and rolled and his stomach heaved and he was gasping why did it hurt so much-_

"Harry, sweetheart, please, you're tearing the sheets... come on, Harry, you're all right. It's Kurt, you're safe, just calm down..."

_Hours pass. Hour after unbearable hour and Kurt's soothing voice leaves his unconscious mind and others seep in, less familiar, less soothing but they don't run away and it's light and then it's dark behind feverish eyelids and he's falling, he's dreaming again. Green light, lights flashing everywhere and ripping flesh and cutting off screams and cries and it's Harry, Harry's hurting them and he's smiling-_

"Jesus, Carole, is he bleeding?"

"He scratched at his face again, Burt, can you get me a cloth? Harry, you're okay, just calm down, calm down..."

_They go, those voices go and there are others, in light and in dark and whispered conversations he doesn't understand. Food is coaxed down his throat but his body rebels against it, and he can hear the worried noises and the cries but he doesn't understand. Where is he, where is he, his uncle was chasing him through the house, if he could just get to his cupboard he'd be safe, he wouldn't have to listen to the screaming or feel the hand across his face he just had to run and run and run and run -_

"Oh god."

"Hermione? What are you-"

"Puck called me, I came over as soon as I could. Oh, Harry, how could this - what happened, Kurt? Puck couldn't tell me and - Merlin, he looks awful."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione, I didn't even think of calling you. These past four days have been so insane..."

"What happened? Where's Remus?"

"We don't know. He just took off, Hermione, and he took all of Harry's medication with him."

"What? He took his - oh my god, how could he?"

"That's what I've been wondering."

"So Harry's been withdrawing? How is he?"

"He hasn't been _compos mentis _in days. He keeps talking in his sleep, hallucinating, he throws up every time he eats anything... it's bad, Hermione. It's really bad. And he's in so much pain."

"I can't believe Remus did this, this is just... and no one knows where he is now?"

"No idea. He just left Harry a note. And this was the day after he beat the crap out of him. My dad went over to Harry's place yesterday to see if Remus had come back - he wasn't, and the whole house was trashed; broken glass everywhere, cracks in the walls, the TV was smashed... and there was blood all over Harry's room. Dad was as white as a ghost when he got back."

"Wait, Kurt, did you say Remus _beat _Harry? No, that's not - is that where those bruises came from?"

"Yes. Harry came to school black and blue, saying he'd fallen, but he admitted it later. He said - he was still trying to protect him, Hermione."

"...this was five days ago, yes?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just - no reason. Merlin help us, he could be anywhere by now. I'll call someone to try and track him down. Thank you, Kurt."

"For what?"

"For taking care of Harry. Have your family been okay with it?"

"Oh, yes. Dad's been in here while I'm at school, and Carole usually helps when she's home. Mr Schuester's basically living here too. We care about him, Hermione. We love him. We weren't going to abandon him now."

"... do you think he'll mind if I sit next to him on the bed?"

"He seems settled, so I doubt it. You can stay here if you like."

"Thank you, Kurt."

_The smell of lilac perfume soothed a little, soothed like Kurt's voice and rough hands brushing back his hair. It hurt, why did it hurt, his body and his head and just everywhere __**make it stop **__- he had to stop Bellatrix, Ginny and Luna were right there and they were trying - Ginny cursed her, it's good but it won't be enough, nothing is going to stop Bellatrix so Harry has to stop her he has to he has to he has to -_

"Hey, uh, Burt?"

"Oh, Finn, hi. Finn, you probably shouldn't be in here, buddy, Harry gets a little antsy when new voices are around - "

"I - I know, I just wanted to know if there was anything you needed, any water or whatever."

"No, I think we're good in here. Harry's asleep again anyway."

"I heard him - I heard him screaming before. Was he... what happened?"

"Just a bad turn, Finn, don't worry about it. Withdrawing from this crap hurts, Hermione said. Harry will be up and about in no time, just you wait 'n see."

"...Burt, is this my fault?"

"What? Finn, no, why would you even think that?"

"Because he heard me tell Kurt that I thought he was dangerous because he hurt Azimio and then he went home and Remus hurt him and he might not have got hurt if I hadn't made him leave and Remus might not have run off and then he wouldn't be like this - "

"Take a breath, Finn. Atta boy. Kiddo, this is not your fault. Did you mess up just before this happened, yeah, a bit. You were a little insensitive about where Harry was comin' from, coulda been a little more open minded. But you know what? You're 17. You're allowed to be a bit stupid sometimes. Really, what you did wasn't so bad. It don't make you a bad person to make a little mistake like that. Harry's breakdown - or whatever you'd call this - it's because he's had a seriously tough life and losing Remus pushed him too far. Even if he hadn't overheard the fight between you and Kurt, this still woulda happened."

"I was just so scared he might hurt Kurt. I never meant to hurt him."

"Well, I'm glad you're so protective of your brother. It means a lot to me that you two look out for one another. But you know what? This boy in this bed is hallucinating and flailing and scared out of his brain, but not once has he taken a swipe against Kurt. He's hit me and Schuester, and even pushed your mom away once or twice, but he's _never_lashed out at Kurt. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"...I just want him to get _better_, Burt."

"He will, Finn. Just give it time."

_Why is his uncle so angry? He cooked the food right today, he was sure of it, but he still wasn't allowed any dinner. He was so hungry curled up in his cupboard with the smoke from the St Mungos fire clinging to his skin but he couldn't eat, couldn't bring himself to raise food to his lips with the memories of the burning and maimed bodies so fresh in his mind. Kingsley took a Reducto to the chest, it split him open like a shotgun would have, shattering his insides. Harry held his big hand as he died, as the light dripped out of his eyes..._

"Hey, Hermione, wasn't it? Kurt said you were here."

"Ah - yes. I am Hermione. You are Mr Schuester, correct?"

"Yeah, that's me, but all the kids call me Mr Schue, I don't mind if you do. Will is fine, too."

"Thank you. And thank you for being here for Harry. Kurt tells me you've taken time off work for this."

"It isn't a problem. I had time off saved up, the only thing I needed to keep up with was Glee club."

"Yes, Harry said you were getting ready for a performance right now. Ron and I weren't going to be able to make it."

"Being here isn't a problem for you, is it? Because Harry's going to be okay, and I'm sure he'd understand - "

"I know he would. I'm sure the reason he didn't mention he was having problems was because he didn't want to interrupt mine or Ron's work commitments, but family is more important than that. _He's _more important than that. He's so stupid sometimes - or perhaps more stupidly selfless than actually stupid. He never wants anyone to be put out because of him, never wants to be a burned. We worked it out just fine, getting here. Ron managed to get a rush on all his exams so he can take them early, so he'll be here within a day or so now too. He wanted to come over right away, I had to practically beg him not to drop out of his course until we knew what was really going on. Harry would never forgive himself if Ron gave up his dreams for him. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be ranting like this, I'm just so frustrated."

" Don't worry, I get it. You've tried to explain to Harry that he matters too, huh?"

"Only every day since he was eleven. It was that bitch aunt of his... she and her troll of a husband should be in prison for what they did to him."

"He doesn't talk about them, but I saw the scars on his back..."

"Yes... yes, I've seen them too. Merlin, that it's come to this..."

"Hey, Hermione, it's all right-"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's just - he's been my brother since we were eleven, or as good as. I'm not close to my parents, I don't have siblings... he and Ron are my family. They're my world. It's bad enough that Ron wants to join the Minis - military. I thought Harry would be safe here, at least. God, look at me, I'm a mess."

"Here, have a tissue."

"Thank you, Mr Schuester. Puck talks about you, you know. He says you're one of the few teachers who actually cares about their job at that school."

"Puck? I didn't realise you two were..."

"Yes, we're... dating. Kind of. I wasn't all that invested in it, to be honest, but that he thought to call me and tell me what was happened to Harry, and he was so upset and angry about it... I have a whole new appreciation for him. He's a lot more mature than I thought. I'm going to give him the biggest... _hug..._ever, when I see him."

_There's a first year girl, he doesn't even know her name, a Ravenclaw with black hair and wide, dark eyes and her scarf falling off her narrow shoulders. She's standing in the middle of the hallway as everyone else runs away, to terrified to move, to terrified to make a sound. He's running towards her, faster than he's ever moved before but he's done this before, he's relived this moment so many times and he knows what's coming, knows that the curse will hit her before he gets to her side no matter how hard he runs, and she's dead before she hits the ground and he never even knew her name -_

"Harry? It's Kurt. I don't know if you can hear me... I don't know how much of the last week you've been able to hear at all. You told us that this - this _nightmare _of a withdrawal would last about a week and it's been six days so I hope it's getting better - I hope it doesn't feel quite so bad to be you right now.

"I just...I miss you, Harry. I can't believe we've only known one another for four months - it feels like we were friends for a lifetime. You're one of the only people in my life who've ever seen me as more than 'Kurt, the Gay Boy.' I'm more than that to you - more than the stereotype, more than the bitchy words and fancy clothes and high voice. I think you're the first person I ever met who acted like I didn't like fashion and Broadway and Vogue because I was gay. You know that I like those things because I'm _Kurt_. No one has ever really got that, you know?... why am I talking like you're going to reply, you're only semi-conscious...

"Please wake up, Harry. Please, wake up and be with me again. I'm so scared at school right now - scared that I'll come home and something will have happened to you, and scared of... of Karofsky. It's - just please. It's selfish and it's stupid, I know, but please, please wake up for me. Please."

_He feels... he feels... better? Is it better? He doesn't feel so sick. The crackling of the burning castle, the screams and the smoke feel further away now. The pounding in his head has faded to a sort of vague throbbing. Bellatrix's blood isn't staining his hands anymore. It's washed away in the suddenly cool, clear water of the lake. He feels better. There's a hint of lilac perfume floating around him, and he opens his eyes._


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm sorry for the lateness and the irregularity, between the emotional impact of this story and my current ill-health writing has not been easy as of late. But the worst of it is over, so hopefully the next few weeks should get easier. Sigh, I meant for this story to be a short follow-up to Anonymity, but now it's looking like it'll be just as long. And I'm still writing one-shots in this series! Like, three of them! I'm an idiot. Also, because my sister has not helped me with the website I'm not sure if it's ever really going to get up and running so I'll be posting Bumping Uglies up on FanFiction dot net very soon. Good god I'm tired and loopy.

Also, just as an amusing aside, a part of my health issues recently is that I've been throwing up every morning at about the same time 3 days out of 5. At one point I had the alarming thought of, "Morning sickness! I"m pregnant!" Then I remembered that I'm a lesbian who hasn't even had sex with a woman in eight months and felt like a moron. ^-^'

* * *

"Harry, sweetheart? Are you awake?"

Hermione's voice was a welcome sound to wake up to, but Harry still felt unsatisfied. His eyes felt dry and achy, his mouth tasted the way old socks smelled, and his face was stinging faintly. He looked around, taking in Kurt's white walls with a soldier's eyes. He noted the buckets and the cloths left on the sleek modern furniture, partially eaten toast left on plates on half a dozen surfaces. Hermione - comforting, familiar Hermione - sat perched on the bed next to him, on top of the mismatched, rumpled blankets. His old friend's eyes were tired, almost defeated, like she expected him to be hallucinating again or collapse back asleep. He was as surprised as her when he didn't.

"Hermione," he rasped, his brow furrowing at the dull aching in his head. The witch's eyes widened as Harry reached up to rub his sweat-grimey forehead, forcing the words out of his parched and aching throat. "What - when did you get 'ere?"

"Harry, are you really - hold on a second, love, I need to feel your forehead," Harry stared at her blankly as the girl scurried forward and rested a gentle little hand on his face. Her smile lit up the room. "Finally - your fever's broken. How do you feel, Harry?"

"Tired," he admitted after a moment. "Sore. Thirsty. And very... confused."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hermione prompted him, reaching over to grab a glass of water from the bedside table. Harry thought while she helped him take a long sip, trying to separate memories from days of nightmares and fever-dreams, pushing back an underlying anxiety and fear that was less overwhelming now.

"I remember telling Kurt that things were going to get bad," he said slowly, snippets of memories coming back to him. "I remember... Burt. And Mr Schuester. They were here. How long have I...?"

"A week," Hermione's voice was gentle but the words still hit him like a freight train. "This is the seventh day - it's about lunch time, I think. I dozed off a bit."

"Merlin's fucking beard," Harry swore softly, looking down at his trembling hands. "That's - a week? It's really been a week? I can't believe... did they - did they tell you about Remus?"

Hermione nodded grimly, "I enlisted Neville and Luna's help to find him. I didn't think you'd mind - he really can't be left to roam free, and Luna already knew where you were, God only knows how, and you know Neville isn't going to get nosy or tell anyone and I wanted to be here with you-"

"Good thinking," Harry interrupted, not wanting the obviously over-tired girl to become overwrought. "Given how bad he was... he forgot his Wolfsbane entirely, 'Mione. He nearly killed me."

"I thought Kurt said he beat you on the full moon," Hermione nodded with a scowl. "Not that he realised, of course, but I understood the relevance."

Harry flinched and nodded, looking back at his glass.

"Ron's asleep at your place," Hermione told Harry as the wizard took another long sip of his water. "He got in yesterday - he's still jetlagged. I can call him if you like. He won't mind."

"Let him sleep," Harry demurred, pressing the cool glass to his flushed cheek. His hands were still trembling like they had been, though by the empty feeling in his stomach Harry guessed that had more to do with hunger than withdrawal - hunger and probably the faint, underlying fear that he no longer had chemical assistance to suppress. "I'll still be here later. Merlin, seven days. I can't believe that."

"Considering you were hallucinating and semi-conscious most of the time I'm not surprised," the witch leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Harry's sweaty face. "I was so worried, Harry. How could you not call us if things were getting that bad?"

"You and Ron have your own lives, I can't expect you to drop everything for me all the time..." Harry protested, a familiar tightness starting in his chest. Hermione must have seen the way his hands clenched the blankets and his breathing hitched because she smoothed her tense expression and traced a gentle hand down Harry's arm.

"It's all right, sweetheart, no need to panic," she soothed, and Harry shook his head.

"I can't control it. Hermione, I'm going to be a mess without Calming Draughts."

"You're going to be fine," Hermione slipped her arms around Harry's trembling shoulders, tugging him against her chest. He fought to keep his breathing under control, to not give in to the urge to panic, and he was mostly successful. "Harry, love, you're okay. Deep, slow breathes sweetness, come on. That's it."

"What am I going to do, Hermione? I can't live like this," he whispered into her shoulder. She gently pet his hair as he buried himself closer to her. "My a-addiction was only a part of the problem, I'm still a complete lunatic."

"Oh, you are not, don't be melodramatic," Hermione huffed into his hair, and Harry couldn't help the little smile that crept onto his face at the witch's no-nonsense tone. "You are going to be fine, Harry. It'll be hard and you'll have to work for it and it's probably going to suck a lot but you'll do it."

"How? I can't talk to just any therapist and I can't just owl Healer Ryan all the time - what if it's intercepted? And letters aren't really the best way to do therapy anyway," Harry mumbled, pulling back from Hermione to rub at his damp eyes. Hermione nodded thoughtfully, pursing her lips.

"I'm working on it. I have a couple of ideas... don't worry about it right at this moment, though. Do you want something to eat? You haven't kept anything down in days."

"Yes please," Harry agreed, flexing his legs under the blanket. "And then maybe a shower."

"No offence, love, but that's an excellent idea," Hermione shot him a teasing smile as she moved towards the door. Harry wrinkled his nose as she closed the door, torn between pouting and smiling. He looked around the room again, guilt seeping in as he took in the state of his boyfriend's room.

_God, he freaks out if his books aren't in the right order on his shelf or the magazines on his desk are crooked. This must be making him mental. I've got to clean this up._

Harry shoved the blankets off his legs with his weak hand and staggered to his feet. The room spun and his head swum, his eyes watering as nausea and dizziness overtook him. He refused to lie down, however, forcing himself to remain standing and staggering over to an empty plate. He shakily stacked a couple of plates on top of one another, throwing the stale toast and uneaten fruit into a plastic bag with a grimace. He gathered the scattered classes and mugs of coffee, placing them on an abandoned tray, and did his best to straighten the bed. He was so focused on his task that when there was a gentle knock on his door he jumped out of his skin, stumbling into Kurt's desk and knocking over a tin of pens.

"Come in," he called as he straightened the desk, trying to ignore the utterly irrational anxiety rising in his chest. Will Schuester poked his head around the door, his eyes going wide at the side of Harry shoving the pens back into their tin.

"Harry, what are you doing out of bed? I mean, it's great to see you feeling better but you shouldn't be walking around, you haven't eaten in days!" the teacher protested, hurrying forward with an arm out. Harry flinched away minutely, taking an involuntary step back. The teacher hesitated in his stride and Harry flushed.

"Sorry, I'm a little jumpy," he muttered, half-heartedly pushing the tin back where it belonged. "I was just trying to tidy up, Kurt hates mess and this is his room-"

"Kurt doesn't mind, Harry," Mr Schuester assured him, carefully ushering Harry back towards the bed, taking care not to touch him at all. "This room has looked worse, trust me. Hermione said you were up, how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to cry and I don't know why," Harry admitted wryly, sitting back on the bed. "Also hungry."

"I'm not surprised on either account," Mr Schuester placed a hesitant hand on Harry's shoulder. "But I'm glad the worst is over, at least."

"Yeah," Harry agreed half-heartedly. He frowned down at his knobbly knees, sticking out from the bottom of the cotton boxers he was wearing. "Do I want to know how I got changed?...or why I had to be?"

"Probably not," Mr Schuester patted Harry's back sympathetically when the boy's face flushed and he cringed in embarrassment. "You were sick, Harry, and Carole's a nurse. Don't be embarrassed for being ill."

"Right," Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. To his surprise his fingers slipped through his locks easily, not tangling at all. "Huh. Did someone brush my hair?"

"Hermione did, I think. Kurt tried, but you would get frightened when the bristles touched your scalp. Hermione somehow managed to do it while I was out of the room early this morning," Mr Schuester got to his feet and shuffled around the room, straightening the blankets on the bed and moving a couple of kitchen chairs out of the way. Harry was smiling faintly at Hermione's ingenuity as he ran his fingers through his hair again - Untangling Charms weren't perfect, but they'd certainly done the trick for the moment. As for Carole apparently needed to change his clothes... he put the idea out of his head for the sake of his own mental health.

"Glee's on this afternoon," Mr Schuester commented suddenly. "I know you're not up to going to it, but should I tell people they can visit afterwards? Kurt might skip it to see you, actually."

"Yeah, I think that will be okay," Harry tapped his fingers against his leg, a sudden thrill of anxiety racing through him. "Just maybe - not all at once?"

"Sure, of course," the teacher smiled sympathetically as Harry dug his fingers into his thigh, trying desperately not to panic again. "Hey, don't worry about it. They'll understand if you need another day-"

"The drug is out of my system," Harry interrupted, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. "This isn't withdrawal. This isn't what's been happening for the last week. This is just what I always feel like without my medication. This is me at neutral."

"And... how do you feel?" Mr Schuester looked wary of Harry's answer, and he cringed at Harry's humourless laugh.

"Terrified. Anxious. Ready to crawl out of my skin. Ready to - I don't know. I don't know how - how does anyone get back from this?"

"With time, effort, and help," the man sat down next to Harry gingerly, keeping a careful eye on the teenager's blank expression. "You'll have all the time and help you need, and the effort... you can do it. I promise you, you can."

"A part of me doesn't want to," Harry admitted, dragging his nails up the bare skin of his knee. The slight pain of the scratch soothed the frantic anxiety a little bit, gave him something to focus on. It held his focus so much that he barely noticed himself continuing to mutter. "A part of me... doesn't really see the point."

"You don't see the point in getting better?" Mr Schuester repeated cautiously. Harry shrugged, staring at his knees.

"Just - putting everyone through that, through this, for what?" he mumbled, dragging his nails up his leg idly. "Me being gone would make everyone's lives so much easier."

"Hey," Mr Schuester interrupted, his voice suddenly sharp. Harry jumped a little and looked up at him, green eyes wide. "Don't you think that. Don't you dare think that. No matter how hard helping you is, it's got nothing on how much losing you would hurt. We want you around, Harry, so much. I want you around. You have your problems, just like anyone, but you're still a smart, funny, generous, compassionate kid that we all want in our lives. This last week was about as bad as it gets for looking out for someone, and we got through it. We got through it and I, for one, would gladly do it again if you needed me to. So don't you dare start thinking that we'd be better off without you, all right? No-one else thinks that."

_Maybe they should._

Harry bit his tongue and just nodded quietly, looking back down to his knees. He was still scratching at the skin absentmindedly, digging the edges of his nails into the pale flesh. His nails had left faint red lines on his skin, not nearly enough to draw blood, but Mr Schuester reached over and pulled his hand back anyway. Harry wanted to sigh, wanted to roll his eyes or scream, _"You have no right, you don't understand, you don't know!"_ but he just looked away. _He just heard me muttering about not wanting to be here anymore. Paranoia about me hurting myself is probably understandable._

A moment later Hermione was gently rapping at the door, and Mr Schuester got up to let her in. Harry's fingers itched to go back to digging into his leg, but he forced his hands to remain still. _No, don't scratch. I'm not replacing one unhealthy habit with another one. I promised - I promised Kurt I would survive this. I've just gotta - I've got to try, at least. _Hermione was balancing a plate of toast and a cut up apple on a tray with what looked like a glass of apple juice. Harry's stomach grumbled loudly at the sight and smell of the food and he blushed, but neither Mr Schuester or Hermione commented, the witch just lowering the tray onto the bed next to Harry and the teacher slipping towards the door.

"I have to go back to school in a few minutes, get ready for last period Glee. Will you two be all right until Burt gets home?" the teacher fiddled with the doorknob as he forced a casual smile onto his face. He was mostly looking at Hermione with the occasional tremulous flicker towards Harry, and the girl put a soothing hand on Harry's shoulder when she replied.

"Oh, we'll be fine. We'll just have some lunch and we'll probably both take a nap afterwards, right Harry?"

"Yeah," he agreed hollowly, not looking up at either of them. Mr Schuester's worry was palpable, and he knew that the teacher was probably frightened of what Harry might do if he left, but the young wizard was really too drained to care. He could see the teacher nod reluctantly from the corner of his eye, still hovering in the doorway.

"I'll tell the club not to come all at once, try to stagger their visits for a few days," he offered, and Harry glanced up at him through his eyelashes. "Is there anyone in particular you want to see, other than Kurt?"

Harry thought for a moment, sorting through his American friends one by one to see who made him the least anxious, "Puck, maybe? And Quinn. Maybe Brittany and Santana."

Mr Schuester nodded with every name, smiling lightly, "You know, it's kind of funny that you and Puck are such good friends. You're nothing alike."

"How so?" Harry felt a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and a little tension ease from his shoulders at the light-hearted comment. Talking about Puck, about his friends, about something other than the fact that his life was an utter mess... _it's definitely less stressful._ Mr Schuester shrugged, visibly relaxing too.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I like Puck, but you have to admit that he's pretty crass and kind of... confrontational, I guess? He's a good kid, a great kid, but a week ago I had to bribe him with ACDC to put his shirt back on in Glee after Tina said Mike's six-pack was better than his," the man grinned and shrugged at both Harry and Hermione's knowing nods. "Next to you, who's so modest and quiet..."

"You could say that about Kurt, too," Harry pointed out, shifting a little. Talking about his friend and his boyfriend in a casual way was relaxing Harry to no end, making him feel a little bit normal for the first time in a week. "I mean, obviously he's not crass but he's loud and flamboyant and... _Kurt_."

"He is," Mr Schuester laughed a little, tapping the doorway idly as he began to leave. "And I have no doubt that he'll be rushing home to see you soon, so you'd better get some lunch down fast. See you later."

"Goodbye, Mr Schuester," Hermione smiled a little as the door shut, turning back to Harry with a hurried clap before shoving the tray closer to him. "He's right, you'll better have a little something so you can jump in the shower. Don't rush it, though, you really need to keep something down."

"Tew me a'out i'," Harry agreed, mouth already full of toast. Ignoring Hermione's disgusted, "Really, Harry?" he savoured the first thing he'd been able to stomach in a week. It was just dry wholemeal toast, slightly burnt on one side, but after a week of no more than a pittance remaining down it felt like luxury.

"If you make yourself sick from eating too fast I am not cleaning it up," Hermione declared with a huff, standing up to straighten Kurt's room a little, pulling her wand out of its holster on her hip to help. Harry slowed his eating down to a more respectable pace, staring at the magical item in her hand with dawning worry.

"Hermione," he began when he'd swallowed his mouthful. "Do you know where my wand is? Because I don't."

She paused for a moment mid spell, the throw pillow she'd been moving hovering a foot above the bed, "I have no idea. When did you last have it?"

Harry thought for a moment, pushing through the persistent headache and fuzzy memories of the past week to think of his last use of magic, "When R-Remus was chasing me. When I had to fight the wolf off. I put it in my holster after that. I don't remember taking it out, but I'm missing some time after... after I realised he was gone. I have no idea how long, but..."

"You probably just put it down somewhere, sweetness, I'll look for it later," she promised, nudging the throw pillow through the air and onto Kurt's vanity stool with a flick of her wand. "No-one's mentioned any - is your magic...?"

"Gone, like Remus's was," Harry muttered, shoving a slice of apple into his mouth at the first sting of tears behind his eyes._ No, I've had enough crying recently. No tears. But Merlin I feel wrong without my magic. _Hermione made a sympathetic noise and holstered her wand, leaning over the bed to run a gentle hand through Harry's hair.

"Not gone, Harry, just suppressed for a little while. It's better this way, no backlash is one less thing for you to worry about," the witch straightened and shot a pointed look at the rest of the food on the plate. Harry began to eat faster again, pushing the magical issue to the back of his mind as much as possible. It was still a little niggling fear, an underscore of anxiety that just added to the worry that was already there -_ I'm helpless without my magic, I can't protect myself, can't protect anyone else, what if it never comes back, what if I'm too broken to get better_- Harry shoved an entire slice of orange into his mouth at once, trying to silence his thoughts with food. It worked, to some extent. He managed to get down a whole piece of toast and several pieces of fruit before his stomach felt unsettled, and he washed it down with the whole glass of apple juice. Hermione puttered around the room tidying, sending the extra chairs down the stairs and smoothing the sheets and blankets. She was yawning by the time she grabbed the tray off the bed and put it on Kurt's desk, setting a few other plates and glasses on it.

"Do you want to take a shower now?" she asked, cracking her back with both hands. Harry nodded and slowly got to his feet, allowing the dizziness to pass this time before wandering towards the door. Hermione summoned a few clean towels with a smile and let him wander out on his own. Harry thought he saw her collapse onto the newly made bed behind him when he slipped out the door.

Harry had showered in Kurt and Finn's bathroom once before, when he and Kurt had gotten soaked by rain on their way from car to door one afternoon before they were dating. At the time the complicated in-built multi-level shelf with its dozens of bottles of lotions and bodyscrubs and eight different kinds of loofas their shower contained had confused and vaguely frightened him. Names like Neom and Lancôme meant absolutely nothing to him but it was pretty obvious they were expensive. He'd just wanted to use the little soap left on the bottom shelf, near the corner, but Kurt had insisted he could use anything in there with a flutter of his hand so the wizard had left the shower smelling like a combination of lavender, sandalwood and vanilla. Finn had never really let him live it down.

(_"Hey, I think Rachel owns that perfume, dude! Nice choice!"_

_"Shut up, Finn."_)

The complicated lotion-holder-thing was still there when Harry entered, still fit to bursting with all the scrubs and body washes Kurt could possibly need. Harry left the towels on the bench next to the sink and he slowly stripped off the faintly gritty t-shirt and boxer shorts, wincing when he caught a look of himself in the mirror. His bruises had faded to an ugly greenish-yellow, and the cuts had scabbed over, flecks of dried blood marring the edges. His ribs were more pronounced than they already had been; he really hadn't had enough weight spare to spend a week not eating. His muscles were less pronounced, his face was gaunt and pale and covered in shallow scratches of various levels of healing. Between the discoloration of the bruises and the way his bones stuck out he kind of looked like he'd been dead for a while. He was more than happy to take his glasses off and set them next to the towels.

He jumped in the shower as soon as he turned on the water, flinching at the cold but determined to get the faint smell of sweat and vomit out of his nose. The water heated up within a few seconds anyway, and the wizard sighed gratefully as the hot water beat down onto his tense and twisted muscles.

His knees were already trembling from being on his feet for just five minutes, so he hurried to grab the nearest bottle of body wash to him and squeeze some onto the flannel Hermione had given him with his towels. He lathered himself up quickly, cringing a little when he realised he now smelt somewhat like roses - _oooh, Finn'll have fun with that, I'm pretty sure Rachel uses floral scented soaps too_ - before reaching for another random shampoo. By the time the suds had rinsed from him, and he felt a little less like he was covered in grit and sweat, he smelt somewhat like a perfume store. He didn't understand how the hell Kurt always managed to smell so good._ How the hell does he do it? He never smells like the perfume fairy threw up on him. I feel like I've been assaulted by a florist shop._

He dried himself off as quickly as he could, well aware that Kurt probably would cut class to see him like Mr Schuester said. Harry didn't want to put his dirty clothes back on so he walked back to Kurt's room with a towel around his waist and one around his shoulders, his hair dripping onto it, with his clothes tucked underneath one arm. Hermione was dead asleep on Kurt's bed when Harry got in, snoring slightly in that way that Ron always teased her about, so Harry just tiptoed around the room, dumping the old clothes into Kurt's hamper and (somewhat guiltily) going threw his drawers to find something else to where. Once he'd dragged on a pair of clean boxers, the same sweatpants Kurt had given him the first night and a flannel shirt Harry couldn't believe his boyfriend owned he sat back down on the bed with his back on the headboard, legs trembling with exertion. He'd been awake for maybe half an hour after a week of restless dreaming but he was so tired he couldn't help but let his eyes slip closed...


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY! I promise I've been trying to upload this! I've had it ready for almost a week but between real life (I'm starting university next week, v. stressful and time consuming), doing crazy hours at work to make up for the fact that I won't be able to work full time anymore, and FFdotNet _**not letting me log in for six days**_ it's been a little impossible. But it's here, and the next chapter shouldn't take as long to get up.

Whomever it was who recced me on TVTropes: Bless you. Bless your family, bless your children, bless your country and your cow. I fucking LOVE TVTropes and knowing that I'm on there is basically the best thing in my life ever. Reviews, as always, make my heart atwitter. I know I haven't been as good about responding to them recently, I'm having some trouble focusing recently - not a good sign for my mental health, I realise, but not much I can do but push through at this point. Hope this chapter lives up to expectations.

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A soft, familiar, _wonderful _voice calling his name woke him up.

"Harry, sweetheart?"

Harry's eyes drifted open and he felt a slight smile twitch at the corner of his mouth as Kurt's face came into view. His boyfriend looked tired and haggard, his eyes bright and worried, but he was still the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

"Kurt," he whispered gratefully, raising a heavy hand to trace his fingers down Kurt's jaw. "God it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you recognising me," Kurt laughed, his voice slightly choked with relief. He raised an equally hesitant hand to Harry's face, cupping his boyfriend's jaw in his palm carefully. He was leaning over Harry on the bed, wearing a relatively simple outfit for him - Harry couldn't see a single accessory. Hermione was still out cold next to them and didn't even stir as Kurt sat down facing Harry, dropping his hand from the wizard's face to his wrist.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt's voice was wavering slightly, and he barely blinked as he took in Harry's clear eyes and content smile. Harry laughed a little nervously, glancing away.

"Physically or otherwise?" he tried to make it sound like a joke but they both knew he had a point. Kurt's thumb was stroking the back of Harry's hand lightly as he took a deep breath, letting it out on a sigh as he reluctantly admitted. "I have a headache. I'm really tired. I'm thirsty and hungry and I feel kind of like I'm going to keel over."

"And otherwise?" Kurt prompted, glasz eyes gentle. Harry cringed a little.

"Just scared, mostly. Anxious," the wizard sighed, deciding against mentioning the little voice in the back of his head still screaming for him to slice himself up, to remove himself from the equation for everyone else's sake - _Kurt doesn't need to worry about that right now_. "I'm really jumpy and I always feel like I'm going to cry. But I'm okay, love. I'm not going anywhere. Are you okay?"

Kurt let out another strangled laugh and pressed his forehead to Harry's hands, clasping them so tightly in his own that the wizard could feel his bones creaking. Harry felt guilt begin to break through his tissue thin hold on coherence and he felt a tremor run through his body. Kurt looked up at him when he felt it, quickly straightening and looking Harry firmly in the eyes, "Harry, I'm not going to lie and say that this week hasn't been one of the most stressful times in my whole life and that I don't need sleep as much as Hermione clearly did but don't you dare think that I regret or resent it. I'd do it all again if I had to. It's just - God, Harry, I was_ so scared_ for you."

Kurt voice cracked on the last word and tears welled up in his gorgeous ocean eyes. Harry felt his own eyes grow damp as Kurt went on, his high voice as broken and distressed as Harry had ever heard it, "This week has been utter _hell_, and it's all the worse because you kept talking in your sleep and I could hear how scared and _hopeless_ you were and it was just a week for me but it was a whole _life_ for you and I don't know how you did it. I really don't know how you could have - I love you, do you realise that? I know I told you a week ago but I don't know if you remember so let me tell you again: I love you, Harry Potter. I love you so damn much I don't remember how I ever didn't love you. You're so damn strong and that's what's kept me going this week through watching you suffer and not sleeping and Karofsky and New Directions basically imploding into a dramatic bubble because you got through worse and came out the other side the amazing man I fell in love with and - and - and -"

"I love you too," Harry managed to force out when Kurt ran out of breath, sounding a little breathless himself as Kurt - his Kurt - practically burst with love for him. Kurt let out a choked sob and practically launched himself into Harry's arms, burying his face in the side of Harry's neck and ignoring the fact that his back almost folded in half for him to do so."Kurt, I do. I love you. I'm so sorry you had to go through this - I'm sorry I put you through it. But I swear to you, it's over. I'm - I'm going to be all right, love."

"You'd fucking better," Kurt mumbled against Harry's pulse, his tears dampening his boyfriend's t-shirt. "I swear I'll help you, just - get better."

"I will," Harry swore, pushing away every doubt and fear he had for one moment._ I can worry about the details later, just be there for him. He was there for you._

The teenagers sat in silence for a moment, Harry idly noticing that Hermione had snuck out at some point - _probably realised she was interupting something, Merlin knows I'd forgotten she was there_- when something else Kurt had said in the last few minutes sunk in.

"Kurt," he began slowly, pulling out of their embrace to look Kurt in the eye. "What's been happening at school?"

Kurt let out an almost frightened huff and looked at the ceiling, a look of feigned annoyance so clearly fake Harry was almost offended, "Well, Quinn dumped Sam and is now diligently attempting to break Finn and Rachel up, and Rachel is being a little diva again and might actually play right into Quinn's hands, Santana and Tina of all people got into a cat-fight over a song for Regionals, and I'm pretty sure we're going to be writing original songs for that even though none of us have ever done any song writing before - with the exception of Rachel, and her attempt was laughably bad-"

"Yes, that's all interesting but... what did you say about Karofsky?" Harry's eyes widened when Kurt flinched at the name, and a white hot thread of anger- the first he'd really felt in a week - shot through his body. "Kurt, what did he do? Do you need me to - "

"I need you to get better and let me handle my own problems," Kurt interrupted, his voice firm and his face solemn, though pale. "It's not a big deal, he didn't - he hadn't hurt me any more than he usually does. He just... look, I'll tell you about it in a few days, okay? When we've both gotten a little more sleep. For now the situation is under control, and I've been talking to Blaine about it so I'm not handling it alone. Can't that be enough?"

Kurt must have seen something flicker across Harry's face at Blaine's name because he paused, faint suspicion creeping onto his face, "Harry... you don't have a problem with Blaine, do you?"

"That's not what we were talking about," Harry shook his head, cursing internally when he felt his cheeks heat up. "Are you sure you can handle Karofsky? Is he hurting you?"

"No, Karofsky is fine. What's your problem with Blaine?" to Harry's surprise, Kurt didn't look at all annoyed. In fact, a slight smile was twitching at the corner of his mouth, and when Harry hesitated he looked downright delighted. "Harry James Potter, are you _jealous_?"

"No!" Harry protested, blushing redder when Kurt began to giggle. "I'm not jealous, I just worry."

"And what, exactly, are you worrying about?" Kurt tilting his head playfully, running his fingers up the bare skin of Harry's wrists. Harry dropped his eyes and mumbled.

"...about the handsome and charming gay boy you're spending so much time with stealing you away?"

"You're jealous," Kurt declared, sounding totally thrilled. "_Jealous_. Really? You know I only have eyes for you, sweetheart."

"Well, excuse me if I'm worried about my sexy and perfect boyfriend realising he can do better than a drug-addicted midget zombie," Harry muttered at his knees, refusing to look up again. Kurt poked him hard on the shoulder, and he looked up at his boyfriend balefully. Kurt was scowling now, shooting Harry a serious Look.

"Please Harry. Give me some credit. Drug-addled midget is one thing, but I'm not going to leave you for someone who thinks Katy Perry is more talented than Gaga. I have some standards. Honestly," he sniffed disdainfully, and Harry felt affection well up in his chest, overpowering the lingering worry and stress just for a moment. Kurt shot him a soft look, smiling gently. "Sweetie, Blaine is cute and we get along well, but I only have eyes for you. He's a friend. Nothing more. Do not make worrying about him something else on your plate right now."

"I suppose with the whole drug-addiction and recent homelessness and diagnosable major depressive episode and the missing guardian I could probably leave the normal teenage drama to the rest of the club," Harry agreed, sinking back against the headboard of Kurt's bed. Being with Kurt made him feel so much calmer, so much more in control, and when his boyfriend toed off his shoes to slide up next to him, allowing Harry to snuggled against his chest, Harry couldn't help his contented sigh. "So Quinn and Sam, huh?"

"Yeah, I was totally surprised, but she's a little strange right now..."

Kurt went on to talk about how Jacob Ben Israel had tried to interview the Glee clubbers about Harry's whereabouts, only to have had Brittany steal his camera and somehow feed it to her cat, and how Mercedes had had to be physically restrained when Rachel had used the phrase, "to showcase my talents," one too many times. It was easy and familiar, the club's gossip and drama, so Harry let himself drift into a happy daze. He still jumped a foot in the air when he heard a knock at the door, his heart racing and instantly on alert, but when Hermione stuck her head around the door he managed to keep his cool.

"If you boys are all right I might head back to yours, Harry," she smiled tiredly at them, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ear. "Ron might be up by now."

"Could you bring me some of my clothes when you come back? That is," Harry turned to Kurt and bit his lip. "Will you and your family mind if I stay here for a little while longer-?"

"If you think we're letting you leave you've got another thing coming," Kurt huffed, tugging Harry closer to his side. "You said it yourself, the worst is over but you're not better yet, and we're going to help you. You're not going anywhere."

"You just like having him in your bed," Hermione quipped, smirking a little when she saw how they both blushed. "I'll bring you some clothes and your toothbrush, Harry. Do you need anything else?"

"My phone, if you find it and it isn't broken," Harry thought for a moment. "And - could you bring me some of my photographs? Of my parents and stuff?"

"Sure," she agreed easily, waving to Kurt. "I'll see you boys tonight."

Kurt waved back and turned to Harry with a smile, "Mr Schuester told the rest of the group that a couple of them could come over after school. Is there anything you want to do before they get here? Eat something or..."

"I had something to eat before I showered," Harry shook his head. His hands began to faintly tremble at the idea of seeing other people, of other people than Kurt and Hermione seeing him. Without his magic available to him he felt more vulnerable than ever, and even if it was only Puck or Quinn or Brittany and Santana... he was utterly, irrationally terrified.

_See people, can I really see people? I can't defend myself, I don't know if it's really them what if it isn't, it might not be - no, stop, don't do this, I can't do this, I can't let my fear control me like this. It's not rational, I know it's not rational, everything is fine so just stop being so scared -_

"You don't have to see anyone if you don't want to, sweetie," Kurt's voice was careful, controlled. His hands were closed on Harry's fingers, stopping him from digging his nails into his wrists. Harry stared at the little crescent marks on his skin - he hadn't even noticed he was doing it. "I can just call them and tell them to wait another couple of days."

"No, I want to see them, I just - " Harry cut himself off, running his hands through his hair and taking a slow breath. "I'm okay. I need to - I need to do this."

"You don't need to, it's just if you'd like to," Kurt argued, but Harry shook his head.

"I can't let myself get stuck in a rut just because it's safe, Kurt. If I do, I'll never get better," Harry thought back to the year Remus had spent in St Mungos, barely talking to anyone, just staring at the walls. "I can't guarantee I won't have an anxiety attack after five minutes, but I need to try."

"I'll be here the whole time," Kurt promised, squeezing Harry's hand. He shuffled off to the side of the bed, slipping off and straightening his clothes in a graceful movement Harry couldn't pull off in his wildest dreams. "I should probably grab some snacks and drinks to set up in here, though, so I don't have to leave again. Do you want to come to the kitchen?"

Harry tried not to flinch at the thought of going downstairs, leaving his safe little Kurt-filled bubble, but he tried to push it aside, "I'll come down."

He staggered to his feet again, taking Kurt's offered hand gratefully, and they made their way down the stairs. The Hudmel living room, which had always seemed so inviting and homey to Harry before, was suddenly so threatening. The wizard froze at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the large bay window diagonally across from him. He'd seen that window a hundred times, even sat curled up in the windowsill with Kurt one cold December evening, watching snowflakes fall onto the garden beds. How had he never noticed how open it was? Anyone on the street could see in, they had a direct line of fire to anyone sitting in the livingroom, it wasn't safe at all-

"Sweetheart?"

Kurt's voice, even as gently concerned as it was, made Harry just about jump out of his skin. As it was he twisted hard against his boyfriend's side, grabbing at Kurt's shirt before he knew what he was doing.

"We're too -" _exposed_ was what he was going to say, but the words died off at the sight of the familiar blue-green of Kurt's eyes. _This is Kurt's living room. We're in Lima. There's nothing to be afraid of here except school yard bullies and ignorance. I know that. What just happened?_Kurt tilted his head a little as Harry's grip on his shirt loosened. Harry shook his head to try and shift the sudden cobwebs in his mind.

_We're not - this isn't - I was so sure, so sure that we were in danger but we're not, I know we're not, what did I - what did I think...?_

He'd been half in a flashback without realising it, a big part of his mind back in England with an assault team behind him and every open entry-point a danger, every unknown factor a danger. For that moment, that split second, he'd been an honest-to-god danger to Kurt.

"Christ," was all Harry managed to mutter, rocking back on his heels. He dropped his hand to his side, then grabbing at his own shirt when he automatically went for his wand. "Jesus Christ."

"What is it?" Kurt demanded, looking wildly between Harry, his hands and the window. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything's fine," Harry shook his head wildly, glancing back at the window. _It's just a window, for fuck's sake, Potter. Keep it together._"I just - forgot where I was for a moment. Big open windows like that would have been a bad thing last year."

"Oh, yeah, I guess it would have been," Kurt smiled a little, shooting the window a worried glance. "Would you - I can draw the curtains, just give me a second -"

"No, Kurt, it's fine. I'm okay, it was irrational," Harry argued, still edging towards the kitchen. "I know we're safe here, I'm just - I'm just..."

To Harry's embarrassment, tears started welling in his eyes again. He let out a weak laugh and rubbed helplessly at his eyes. To his credit, Kurt didn't say anything. He just took Harry's hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and led him into the kitchen. When Harry was comfortably sat at the kitchen table (a box of tissues and a glass of water having been provided without comment) Kurt began pottering around, setting out a tray and putting a few plates of biscuits and snacks on it. Harry bit at his nails and let his eyes flick between the open kitchen window (thankfully facing the yard rather than the street) and the door to the living room. He could feel his pulse in his throat jumping almost nauseatingly, fast and uncomfortable. His hands were sweating even as he clutched at the cool water glass, and he couldn't help but drum his fingers against every surface in arms reach.

_Fuck, it feels like my skin is crawling, surely this is just the last bit of withdrawal and I'm not just going to feel like this forever? __**What was that **__oh it was just Kurt closing the fridge door, I knew that, I know that, god, why can't I just sit still? Tap tap tap can't stop tapping it must be bothering Kurt but I can't stop I can't __**stop **__no no no do _not _hyperventilate, Potter, you have no goddamn reason to be panicking right now! Just just just just breathe slow, breathe deep, like the healer taught you no don't dig your nails in, just breathe, just breathe._

The soft hand on his arm made him jump and cry out, automatically going for his wand. Kurt took a step back and raised his hands in surrender, his eyes going wide at the obvious aggression in Harry's stance. It was enough to snap Harry out of his terrified defence, and he dropped his hands loosely by his sides.

"All right? You're not - you're here, right?" Kurt glanced to the side, and Harry nodded slowly.

"I'm - I'm here. Merlin, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have - you just started me," the wizard stammered, shaking his head. "I'm here. I'm here, I promise. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, I know you can't control it," Kurt waved off Harry's apology, the tension slipping from his shoulders as he picked up the snack-ladened tray. "Can you grab the sodas from the bench? I figure no one will drink more than one, right? And if they do they can get it their damn selves, I'm tired and I've been a good host all week. Right?"

"Uh, right," Harry started a little at the abrupt change of subject, grabbing the sodas Kurt was nodding to. He trailed after his boyfriend back up the stairsdeterminedly not looking at the living room window as he did, and he couldn't help his relieved sigh when they reached Kurt's room. He set the cans down on the desk at Kurt's instruction and sat on the edge of the bed, running his fingers across its smooth surface thoughtfully. Kurt bustled around for a moment, resting the tray of snacks next to the drinks and moving his school bag under the desk.

"It's a lot tidier in here than this morning, did Hermione clean up?" he asked Harry distractedly, and Harry cleared his throat softly.

"Yeah, after I woke up. Look, Kurt, about a few minutes ago..." he trailed off with a meek glance in his boyfriend's direction. Kurt looked over his shoulder with a curious frown.

"Yes?" he prompted when Harry hesitated, wandering across the room to fluff the mountains of pillows at the head of his bed. Harry bit his lip.

"You did the right thing, moving back and r-raising your hands like that, but you need to promise me that you'll stay away from me if I go into a flashback," the wizard rushed out, that moment earlier when he'd unconsciously gone for his wand sticking in his mind. Kurt's frown deepened as Harry went on, his words rushed and tripping over one another. "The last thing I want is to hurt you, love, I couldn't stand it if I did, and I get so confused when I'm like that. I'm not asking you to not be there for me or whatever you want to do, just - you need to be careful, all right? Because even if I don't want to be I am a danger to you when that happens."

"I'll be careful," Kurt promised, an oddly determined expression sinking into his features. "I won't grab you when you're not looking at me or anything. I promise I'll be careful. But sweetie, you know I wouldn't blame you if something happened, right?"

At Harry's puzzled look Kurt sighed and sat down next to him, shoulder to shoulder, "If you did push me away or lash out at me during a flashback... I wouldn't blame you. I wouldn't be angry at you for doing something you can't help. And I'm not saying, no, listen - " Kurt nudged Harry silent when he began to protest, smiling a little wryly, "I'm am definitely not saying that if you were to hit me in some other context - say, during a fight or something - that I wouldn't get angry then. If you got physical with me in any other context, then we would be having words. Stern words. Possibly shouted words as I kicked you out of the house. That I wouldn't put up with. But accidentally when you're in a flashback or something - "

"I would never get violent with you like that, Kurt," Harry protested, hurt seeping into his words. Kurt shook his head.

"I know, sweetie, I'm not saying you'd ever do that, I'm just saying that there's a difference between a terrified, panicked person lashing out unintentionally during hysteria and someone becoming violent because of anger or whatever," he patted Harry's arm gently and leaned in to press a kiss to Harry's forehead. "So I'll be careful, sweetie, but don't feel like you need to be afraid of losing me if something does go wrong."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, resting his forehead against Kurt's shoulder. He sighed when long fingers began running through his hair, nuzzling the cashmere in front of him. "I just - thank you. I don't know how I got so lucky as to find you."

"I guess after your life you were due for some good karma," Kurt teased, squeezing the base of Harry's neck affectionately. Harry laughed a little into Kurt's shoulder.

"Definitely. How are you real?" he pulled back to look into Kurt's blue-green eyes. "I wonder that, sometimes, if I didn't just dream you up somehow. How did I go from London to the middle of nowhere and manage to find the one person in the world who would get me and could know me without having to know all my secrets? And someone who would put his whole life on hold to help me? You're like a dream, Kurt."

"I could say the same thing to you," Kurt's voice cracked a little, his smile wide even as his eyes welled with tears. "I fell for you so fast, do you know that? Within, like, a week I was daydreaming about you and writing your name in hearts on all my homework. Mercedes thought it was hilarious. You were just so brave and so accepting - I've honestly never known anyone who honestly didn't even react to my sexuality. It meant no more to you than the colour of my hair or the freckles on my arms and it felt like breathing for the first time."

"Hey, don't cry, love," Harry raised a hand to wipe a few tears of Kurt's face. His smile felt wider and more natural than any expression he'd held for the last week, relaxing his face and easing tension he didn't know he was carrying. The wizard leaned forward to press his lips gently to Kurt's, kissing away the salt from his tears as they just revelled in one another, cuddled up against the other's side.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Okay, new chapter! This one is a bit longer and a bit less late, so hooray for me! I don't totally fail at life! Not sure when I'll be able to update next, I'm doing a literature unit at Uni and it's unsurprisingly reading intensive, so I don't have a lot of time for personal stuff. Also, I joined the university debating club, the writing club, and the theatre group. And the Queer Alliance. Also I work. I'M NOT OVERLOADING, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? This story will not be abandoned, though. Hell, I'll tell my friends to finish it if anything happens to me. Riss, you reading this? That means you. Good luck.

Again, thank you to all my wonderful, patient reviewers and readers who encourage me through this. You know, several people told me to stop writing if this story was too hard, if I felt like it was too detrimental to my health. I can't thank those people enough, it's so unbelievably heart-warming to know that people I've never even met care about me like that, enough to take the time to tell me to take care of myself. Blackhawk68, PancakeMixLordofPantopia, Lucifer's Advocate7 and Purpurea are the ones that come to mind (epic name, by the way, PancakeMix) but I know there were others. Thank you so much for showing that you care.

**SPOILER ALERT FOR EP.3.14: **the whole Cough Syrup scene in this weeks Glee? Totally heartbreaking. I already knew Max Adler was a good actor but DAMN. Made me cry. And Quinn! What's going to happen to Quinn! Don't actually tell me if you know, I don't want to be spoiled, but OMGTEETHKNASHEXCITING!** End spoiler****s. **

* * *

The ring of the doorbell half an hour broke the spell, making Harry jump and go for the place his wand holster should be again and Kurt leap to his feet.

"It must be a couple of New Directions-ers, I'll go get them," Kurt started towards the door. He hesitated in the doorway and shot Harry a worried look over his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay to see someone, sweetheart? They won't mind if you need more time."

"I'll be okay," Harry assured him even as he grabbed a fistful of the comforter with a white-knuckled hand. "I'll be - I'm okay."

"If you're sure," Kurt nodded, shooting his boyfriend a reassuring smile, and slipped out the door. Harry could hear him rushing down the stairs, calling out that he was on his way, and he squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the door open. Harry practiced the deep breathing exercises he'd learnt from the healers the year before as quiet voices drifted up the stairs, followed by approaching footsteps and worried whispers. He forced himself to let go of the bedspread as the footsteps reached the top of the stairs, relaxing slightly when Kurt was the first one to appear in his line of vision, followed by Quinn and Brittany. The two blonde girls had equally wide, nervous eyes, but when Harry smiled at them weakly they seemed to relax. Puck and Santana appeared behind them, looking uncomfortable and out of place as they hovered behind the two blonde girls.

"Hey guys," Harry whispered, wincing a little when he heard how weak and small his voice sounded. His heart rate felt like it was running at double of what it had been a minute ago, and he discretely wiped his sweating hands on his sweatpants. Kurt slipped into the room first, putting a comforting hand on Quinn's shoulder when the girl's breath hitched at the sound of Harry's voice.

"Come on in, guys, Harry and I put together some snacks," Kurt instructed, waving to the tray on the desk and plopping down next to Harry on the bed, giving his boyfriend's hand a comforting squeeze. Brittany brightened at Kurt's casual tone and practically skipped over to Harry, her pony tail swinging behind her like a puppy's tail. She looked so delighted to see him, so genuinely and uncomplicatedly happy that Harry couldn't help but smile wider.

"Is your brain better now?" she asked, dropping down so she was sitting on his other side. When Harry flinched a little both Kurt and Quinn reached forward as though to move Brittany or pull her back, but Harry forced himself to relax into her side_. It's Brittany. She's fine.__  
_  
"Not all better, Britt, but getting there," Harry couldn't help how soft his voice was; it felt like speaking any louder would shift the balance or something, would break his fragile hold on coherency, making him fall apart again. "I still not going to be at school for a few weeks, but you can visit me now."

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Quinn's voice was a little rough, and when Harry glanced at her he could see her eyes were red. To his surprise she wasn't wearing her Cheerio uniform, and the ever-present cross necklace she wore was missing. After a moment's staring he realised she'd asked a question and shook his head to clear it.

"Yes, I'm all right for short visits, I think. I mean, it's you guys. You're my friends. I _want_to see you, even if I am still a little bit crazy. Quinn, you're - you're not wearing your Cheerios uniform. Has something happened?"

"Kurt didn't tell you?" she smiled humourlessly, tugging on her soft blue dress. "I quit. I handed my uniform in on Monday."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably behind Harry, and Santana and Puck were exchanging awkward looks. Quinn just shrugged a little, still smiling an unhappy little smile, "It's no big deal. I just realised that other things were more important than being just another Cheerio."

"Oh," Harry blinked, glancing at Kurt sideways. Kurt's lips were pinched and his forehead was creased with worry;_ So this is what he meant by Quinn acting strangely._"Okay. Um - that's good for you, I guess, if that's what you wanted. Um. Has anything else been happening?"

"Mr Schue's got us writing original songs for Regionals," Puck spoke up from where he was still hovering behind Santana. "We kinda suck at it."

"I thought my song was awesome," Santana protested, scowling over her shoulder at Puck. Kurt made a little scoffing noise and Quinn rolled her eyes as the Latina girl continued. "It was sexy, it had a kick-ass beat, it was catchy as hell. It isn't my fault Schuester's a prude."

"Santana, sweet as it was that you wanted to right an ode to your love of Brittany, I'm pretty sure the judges at Regionals would have taken issue with a ten minute graphic description of exactly where you like to stick your tongue," Kurt rolled his eyes as he spoke, shaking his head a little as Santana pouted and ignoring Brittany's mumble of, "Well, _I_ liked it.".

Harry flushed red as Quinn nodded meaningfully and Brittany grinned, but Santana just huffed.

"Whatever, Ice Queen. _Hot Lips_was a work of creative genius. Just because you're more virginal than your average nun doesn't mean the rest of us have to be - "

"Anyway," Quinn spoke over Santana firmly, matching the glare the other girl shot at her. "Not much else has been happening. The usual drama and whatever. Artie wants to make a short film but Rachel keeps trying to make herself the lead, Mike and Tina had a huge row over contact lenses but made up in about two hours, the usual. The rest of us are just getting ready for Regionals. Do you - will you be able to perform...?"

Harry took a moment to think about standing on stage in his current state, about feeling hundreds upon hundreds of eyes on him, watching him, without any means of defending himself. He felt himself go pale.

"No, no, I won't be - I don't think I'll be able to..." he stammered, grabbed for Kurt's hand as his vision went a little fuzzy. Santana was shooting Quinn a fierce glare and the blonde girl rushed to reassure him.

"No, that's fine, honey, don't worry about it," Quinn reached over slowly and stroked the back of his head. It made his skin crawl a little, the unexpected touch, but he managed not to flinch to badly when he saw the fear and grief in the girl's eyes. "We miss you, but there will be other performances for when you're feeling better. And we have enough members that if you don't want to perform anymore you won't have to."

"Yeah, dude, don't worry about it," Puck spoke up for the first time, send Harry a weak smile when the still-pale boy looked up at him. "For real, we got this. Just get yourself ready in time to perform at Nationals, we got this performance in the bag."

"It's true," Santana added, and Harry relaxed at the sight of her familiar cocky smirk. "You just sit tight, precious, while we make this competition our bitch in time for your triumphant return, whenever that may be."

"Thanks, guys," Harry leaned back against Kurt's side, smiling up at his boyfriend. "I'll definitely get better in time for Nationals. I don't want to miss any more school than I already have."

"Lord Tubbington asked how you were this morning, Harry," Brittany added suddenly, grabbing Harry's hand. Harry jumped a little and made to pull back, but forced himself to just give her hand a gentle squeeze and smile, thinking of the half-Kneazle tabby that lived with the somewhat dim girl. "What should I tell him? He's so worried, he ate all of my chocolate cake."

"Brit-Brit, we've talked about this, you can't let your cat eat cake," Santana sighed, and Harry's smile felt much more natural.

"Tell him I'm getting better, Brittany. I am, I swear. It's just taking a while. Tell him I promise that as soon as I'm better, I'll come over to watch movies with him again," Harry assured her, squeezing her hand again. Her face lit up in a wide grin and she launched herself into his arms, smooshing his face against her chest in a way that made his cheeks flush red.

"I've missed you so much, Harry," she squealed against his head, allowing an alarmed Kurt to pry her off of the smaller boy. Harry shot Kurt a sheepishly reassuring smile - he'd felt a little nervous at the sudden movement, but he wasn't going to panic - and settled back against his boyfriend's side.

"Have you seen Hermione today, dude?" Puck shuffled his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets, trying and failing spectacularly at looking casual. "Kurt says she got here the other day."

"Yeah, she was here when I woke up," Harry nodded, exchanging a fond, exasperated glance with Kurt at Puck's red ears. "She's just gone back to my house to rest for a while, I'm sure she'll be ready to see you soon."

"I don't care, I was just asking," Puck dismissed that with a wave of his hand, before glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eyes. "...but how long do you think that'll be, exactly?"

"I'm not sure, Puck, I'm sorry," Harry shook his head and smiled a little at the enormous pout on the self-proclaimed badass's face. Kurt's voice tickled Harry's ear when he spoke up, and the smaller boy snuggled closer.

"I'm pretty sure she wants to see you, Puck. She was very appreciative that you thought to call her and let her know what was going on," Kurt's voice was light and innocent. "I'm sure if you bring her some daisies and ask nicely she might even let you hold her hand."

"Oh shut up, motherfucker," Puck muttered with a scowl, his ears turning red. Quinn and Kurt exchanged an amused smile and Santana laughed openly as he glared at the carpet. "I don't care, I was just wondering."

"Uh huh," Kurt nodded knowingly, and Harry grinned to himself. He actually almost felt comfortable. Then Brittany spoke up again.

"Where did your dad go, Harry?" she asked, and Harry froze. The other teenagers in the room seemed to freeze with him, Quinn and Santana sharing a glance and Puck shifting uncomfortably. Brittany went on, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room, her brow furrowed in distress, "Santana said that after he gave you those bruises he went away, but that doesn't make any sense. Why would your dad hurt you? Dads aren't meant to - "

"Brittany, maybe this isn't the best time," Kurt interrupted, placing a warm hand on Harry's back. Harry didn't feel it. Instead, he felt the shock of betrayal and fear he'd felt when he'd woken up with Moony snarling down at him. He saw himself flying across the room, felt the pain of the desk splintering under his weight, the glass from his computer screen smashing against his arm, heard the crash and the roar of the wolf. He could smell the blood pouring from his nose and mouth and the acrid scent of death from the battle field and taste the bile rising up in his throat as he forced himself to run through Hogwarts as it burned -

"Right, you guys need to go. Now."

"What did I do? What's wrong with him?"

_And it was burning, he was burning, his side was burning where Moony's enormous paw had slammed into his side -_

"You scared him, Brittany, didn't somebody tell you to be careful what you said?"

"Yeah, but Kurt - "

_He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe through the smoke and the tears and the vomit rising in his throat from fear -_

"Look, I know you didn't mean to upset him but you all need to get out now. He's having a panic attack. Harry, sweetheart, can you hear me? It's Kurt, it's just Kurt. Everyone else is going."

"I didn't mean to - "

"He knows you didn't, Britt-Britt, Harry's just upset right now. We'll go."

"Thank you, Santana. Please shut the door behind you."

_The voices were leaving, footsteps muffled behind a sharp click but he could still smell the burning, could see his blood where it had splattered on the wall behind him had Remus done that? Remus Remus Remus hurt him like that he didn't think he would why would he hurt him but he hurt him he hurt him he said he never would and he hurt him..._

"It's okay, Harry, everything is fine. You're safe, Harry, no one is here but you and me. Come back to me, sweetheart."

_Kurt's voice was far away but it was there, it was just hovering at the edges of his consciousness above the roar of the fire and the burning smoke and the cries of the wolf as Remus threw him across the room with one blow, he could hear Kurt's voice calling him and it was pulling him up and up and up -_

And he could feel it, could feel the burn in his lungs that came from hyperventilating, could see Kurt's room take shape around him, the fear fading and surging with each inhale and weak exhale, his body beginning to ache with the intensity of it, the excess of oxygen ironically making him feel like he was suffocating...

_It's Kurt's room, I'm with Kurt, just a panic attack I'm fine. No no no get a grip get a grip, you're fine, you're fine, stop hyperventilating everything is fine-_

"Harry, sweetheart, can you hear me?" Kurt was running his hands up and down Harry's arms soothingly, but the sensation was still muffled by the fear. Harry fought to tamp it down, fought to _stop freaking out, nothing is wrong, I'm safe, I'm safe here,_squeezing his eyes shut and leaning forward so his forehead rested on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt began to rub his back with strong hands, trying to ease the terrified tenseness in Harry's muscles. The wizard let out a choked sob against his boyfriend's side and groaned in frustration, raising his still clenched fists to bump against his temples.

"Everything is fine, Harry, you're safe here," Kurt was repeating, and Harry shook his head and pulled away.

"I know, I know I know I _know_, I just can't _stop_ - it was just Brittany, it was just a _question_, this is so stupid but I _can't stop_-"

_Scared, scared, shouldn't be scared nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong, Remus is gone he left but he can't hurt me now I have to I have to I can't I can't -_

"This is not stupid, this is just something that's going to happen some times," Kurt soothed, tucking a lock of Harry's hair behind his ear and smoothing it down. He kept talking as Harry forced his breathing into something more reasonable. "Beating yourself up because your body goes into meltdown sometimes isn't going to help. All you can do is keep doing what you're doing and let me help you."

_Kurt's here, Kurt's here and I'm safe, gotta calm down, gotta calm down..._

"You're pretty much the only thing that does help," Harry admitted, voice still tight and choked as the anxiety did its best to close up his throat. His left arm spasmed out and tried to grab his hair, utterly involuntarily, and he forced it back down. He ground out his next words through gritted teeth. "You and Ron and Hermione, I feel safe around you, I do, it's just -"

"You don't have to explain a thing, just keep breathing," Kurt pulled Harry back against his side, running his fingers through the other boy's long hair. Harry's forced, stuttering breaths slowed as Kurt pet his hair, the fear, the memories of hurt run fight betrayal fading to the back of his mind until he began to relax. It took a few minutes for the last involuntary gasps to stop, for his heart rate to stop picking up every few seconds before slowing back down, but Kurt ran his fingers through his hair and whispered soft words of comfort into his ears and it faded. The twitching stopped, the racing of his mind slowed, and he pulled out of his boyfriend's embrace with a weak, sheepish smile.

"Feeling better?" Kurt asked gently, pushing a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes. The wizard nodded sheepishly.

"Much. I mean, I did tell you I'd have an anxiety attack," Harry laughed self-consciously, looking at his lap. He ran a finger along the seam of his pants as he continued, his voice still rushed and raw. "Granted, it was a pretty minor one, so maybe we can count this as a win?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and tapped Harry's nose affectionately, pulling his boyfriend closer to him and pressing a loud, wet kiss to his cheek, "You dealt with a group social situation on the same day as waking up from the week from hell, lasting three times as long as you said you would, and your anxiety attack only lasted ten minutes. Sweetheart, I think we can definitely count this as a successful experiment. You're doing great."

"I'll let you know when I begin to feel like I am," Harry muttered, sighing lightly as the last vestiges of his fear retreated. He shifted back so he was lying on Kurt's bed, his legs dangling off the side. Kurt chuckled and walked his fingers across Harry's knees, provoking a reluctant smile from the shorter boy.

"How about I keep telling you until you believe it?" Kurt teased, grabbing Harry's knee and squeezing it. "It's only day one, and you're doing great. Trust me, before you know it we'll be on stage at Nationals, singing our hearts out to the crowd, front row centre."

At Harry's moderately terrified look Kurt amended, "Or in the back row off to the side. Point is, you're going to get better. And I'm going to be here every step of the way."

A gentle knock on the door sent Harry careening into Kurt's arms again, fear shooting down his veins and making his fingers freeze up. Kurt made a muffled noise when Harry collided with him again, but wrapped his arms around the smaller boy comfortingly and called out, "Who is it?"

"It's Hermione and Ron," the girl's voice called through the door, a little more energetic than she had been earlier. "Can we come in?"

"Harry?" Kurt asked quietly, and the wizard coughed a little awkwardly and pulled off of Kurt's lap, lightly trembling again at the shock.

"You were saying about me doing great?" he muttered wryly, ignoring Kurt's sympathetic look in favour of calling out. "Come on in, guys. It's fine."

The door creaked open slowly, and Harry couldn't help the way he tensed. He saw their hair before he saw them; a tuft of messy red and one of frizzy brown poking around the edge of the door. Then they were peering around the doorway with identical worried looks, Ron's head nearly a foot above Hermione's. When Harry waved them over sheepishly, still pressed against Kurt's side, both of their faces split into wide smiles and they bounded into the room.

"You," Ron began seriously, bouncing onto the bed next to Harry and slapping him upside the head in one movement. "Are a bloody idiot, mate. And that's coming from me."

"Good to see you too, Ron," Harry rolled his eyes, rubbing his head with one hand and smiling gratefully at Kurt as his boyfriend excused himself. Ron shook his head, the scowl he was trying to force at war with his relieved grin. When Kurt had left and closed the bedroom door behind him with a click Ron punched Harry's arm and began again.

"I'm serious. You've got a deteriorating potion-addicted werewolf breathing down your back and you don't think to tell us? We had to hear about it from Hermione's boy toy, for crying out loud."

"I know, I suck, I just couldn't bear the thought of screwing up all your hard work," Harry dropped his eyes to the blanket, not wanting the see the exhaustion in both of his friends' eyes. He looked back up after a moment, feeling his eyes go wide as a terrifying thought occurred to him. "Please tell me you didn't drop out of your training for this."

"No, I didn't, but I bloody would have if I had had to," Ron grumbled, shaking his head. He swung his long legs around so he could sit next to Harry and drag the boy back against the headboard with him, Hermione taking her usual place at Harry's other side. "Merlin's sweaty nutsack, Harry, do you really think some stupid training is more important than your life?"

"I think your dreams are more important than me being a bit uncomfortable for a while," Harry mumbled, snuggling deeper into the group hug. At Hermione's disbelieving noise he admitted, "All right, so I was more than a little uncomfortable, but still."

"Harry, even if I had dropped out I could have retaken the training next year," Ron shook his head again, tightening his grip on Harry's shoulders with his enormous arm. "Hell, the instructor thinks I'm fan-bloody-tastic, he probably would have let me skip right to the part I left at. As it is I just asked to take my last two exams early and got here anyway."

"Oh," Harry thought about it for a moment, eventually snuggling up against Ron's side with a smile. "I'm really glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too," Ron patted Harry's back and let his friend nuzzle his chest. "Even if I think you're just using me for my hugs."

"I am, it's true," Harry agreed. Any lingering tension from the afternoon's drama was melting away with Ron in front of him and Hermione cuddling against his back, and he let their steady breathing sooth his frazzled nerves. Hermione cleared her throat behind him, and Harry cringed. "Oh god, I know that noise. I have to think now, don't I?"

"Yes, you do," Hermione agreed, running her fingers through Harry's hair. "But only a little bit, okay?"

"When Hermione got back to the house I was already awake, and we did some talking," Ron ran a hand down Harry's back, obviously feeling the way Harry had already tensed. "The people here are obviously great, but you know there are things they can't know."

"So there's a few minor points we're going to deal with before we go back to England," Hermione went on, her voice soothing and casual, as though she hadn't put her life on hold to solve all of Harry's problems. "Now, obviously you're going to need to talk to a therapist, but you can't talk to just anyone. I think setting it up so you can talk to Healer Ryan from here is our best bet. Owl post is too inefficient to do therapy by, and if we use magical means it can be traced anyway. I know how worried you are about being found, Harry, and I'm not going to let that happen. What I'm hoping to find is some muggle way to do face to face therapy from different countries. I'm not as well versed in muggle technology as I possibly should be, but surely there's got to be some kind of video phone by now."

Harry perked up, a thought coming to him, "There is! There's this computer program Kurt's always trying to teach me how to use that lets you use the camera in your computer to talk with live video."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione agreed, sitting up. Her eyes had lit up like they always did when she learnt something new, and she looked thoughtfully over to Kurt's laptop on his desk. "I've really got to spend more time with muggles, I'd never heard of such a thing. Do you remember what it's called?"

"It started with an S?" Harry guessed after a moment, shrugging helplessly at Hermione's exasperated huff. "I don't get all this computer stuff, give me a break."

"You're better than me, mate," Ron admitted as Hermione wandered over to the laptop, muttering to herself. "Some guy next to me on the plane over had this little machine, it was like this big, and it had so many songs on it! Like, he pressed the front of it and it could play anything he wanted! I asked him how it worked and he said something about pods and you-ess-bees but I still don't know what the hell he was talking about."

"That's an iPod mp3 player, I have one of those," Harry laughed a little at the mental image of huge, intimidating Ron peering at a little iPod with wondering eyes. "I don't know where it is, though. Maybe Kurt will show you his."

"Ron, tell Harry what we decided you would do," Hermione ordered from across the room. She was still peering at the laptop, squinting into the little camera dot at the top, and Harry and Ron exchanged an amused glance.

"Right away, ma'am," Ron muttered, throwing a mock salute at Hermione's back. As Harry stifled his laughter the taller boy turned to his friend with a little smile. "Someone has to deal with all the legal issues, like making sure the government doesn't try to snatch you away since your guardian did a runner."

Harry's stomach dropped and he suddenly went cold. Ron was still talking, but all Harry could hear was his aunt's voice ringing in his ears.

_"Useless boy, don't you know that you're only here because of our kindness? We could throw you back on the state, let you go into some foster home where they'll really beat you. Now pick up that glass, I don't care who broke it."_

"Harry? Harry?"

Ron's voice finally broke through again, and Harry found himself staring up at both his friends - Hermione was hovering by the side of the bed behind Ron, biting her lip and wringing her hands. Harry's was wavering and his eyes were damp as he asked, "Am I - going to have to go into foster care?"

"No, mate, that's what I'm saying," Ron tugged Harry closer, ruffling his long hair a little and making him huff. "I'm saying that I'm working the system to try and get your custody granted to the person of your choosing. Maybe even get you emancipated, although that's gonna be harder in America. They don't worship you here."

"That's one of the US's many positive attributes," Harry quipped, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand, trying to ignore how he was still trembling at the thought of being a ward of the state. "But how can you do that? Control how that goes, I mean?"

"Harry, I'm studying to become an Auror," Ron rolled his eyes. "I kind of have to know the law to enforce it. And even though US muggle law is obviously different to UK Wizarding law, there's enough of the same basic-ness that I can fake it. I mean, custody can only be done so many ways, you know? Besides, you're super rich. Wherever you are, that pretty much gives you free reign to do whatever the hell you want."

"Sad but true," Harry relaxed against Ron's side again, smiling as Hermione wandered out of the room muttering, completely lost in her quest for answers. "I can deal with some of that stuff, don't worry about it too much."

"It's cool, Harry, I know what I'm doing," Ron tugged on the ends of Harry's fringe playfully. "Frankly, I'm glad to be doing the taking care of you for once, instead of you looking after me."

"Please, you're always doing the taking care of," Harry protested, shaking his head as he thought back to all the times Ron had had his back as he ran off into danger. "I would have been dead at 11 if not for you."

"Too right you would have been," Ron agreed amicably. "But did you really think I wouldn't know who convinced the Head of Magical Defence Division to take a 17-year-old into the early-Auror selection?"

Harry's face flushed, and he dropped his gaze, "...oh."

"Yeah. Oh," Ron shook his head. Harry looked up at him sheepishly and shrugged.

"I didn't get you into the program, I just... convinced him to let you sit the test."

"I know, mate," the taller boy laughed a little, patting Harry on the head and ignoring the scowl he got in return. "My scores got me into the program, but you gave me that chance. Also there was the whole 'anonymous donor' who paid to fix the Burrow after the war-"

"I said it then, and I'll say it now; you can't prove that was me."

"-and someone taught me to cook this summer, long after my mother had given me up as a hopeless case - "

"You were eating fish and chips every night of the week! Someone had to do _something_."

"-not to mention that same someone staying up all night to rub my back while I threw up after ignoring directions and under-cooking the chicken," Ron leaned back as he continued to list things off, making Harry roll his eyes as tiny little moments ("-telling that hot blonde girl that I could bench-press my own body weight this summer, mending my socks, sending me American sweets this year...") were rattled off like great achievements until Harry finally slapped a hand over his friend's mouth.

"All right, I get it, I'm not totally useless as a friend," he laughed a little and shook his head. "I just don't think me playing your wingman over the summer quite equates to you flying around the world and putting your life on hold to get me out of my own mess."

"There are no 'equates' in friendship," Ron said wisely, eyes sparkling with mirth but sincerity dripping from his words. "You're either a good friend or you're not, and you, mate, have been a bloody good friend to me. I'm not hear because I owe you, though let's be honest, I probably do for some reason. I'm here because my best friend needed me, and_ I want to be here_. Now shut up, get better, snog your boyfriend, and let me take care of the bribery and legal bullshit, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed reluctantly, his brow crinkling a little. "But you let me know if you need any help."

"I won't," Ron smiled cheerily, rocking up to clamber to his feet - as always, far too tall for Harry's self-esteem - and nodded towards the door. "Shall we go find Hermione and Kurt, make sure she isn't interrogating him about that computer phone or something?"

"Good idea," Harry scrambled up after him, reaching up and grabbing his shirt when Ron opened the door suddenly.

"Whoa, all right there, mate?" Ron turned and clasped Harry's shoulder, eyeing where the smaller boy was clinging to his t-shirt. Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to let go of the fabric.

"Yeah, just - not so fast, yeah? I'm still a little edgy when I leave the room."

"Sure, right, sorry," Ron nodded, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling his friend close to his side as they started out of the room. "No worries. You just gotta let me know what you need, okay?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, flushing a little at his own irrational behaviour. Still, he couldn't help himself from sticking close to Ron's side as they walked down the stairs, tensing as they reached the living room. The curtains were pulled over the large bay window, blocking the view of the street, and Harry was torn between being relieved and being endlessly embarrassed.

"They're probably in the kitchen, it's through here," Harry pointed, pulling away from Ron to lead them into the kitchen. Sure enough, Hermione was scribbling notes on a piece of paper at the kitchen table as Kurt chopped vegetables at the counter.

"So you're sure you can put money on this account via credit card?" the witch was asking distractedly, and Kurt nodded.

"I'm pretty sure credit card is the first option. Hey Harry, Ron."

"Hey," Harry wandered over to Hermione, looking at the scrawled words and diagrams on her ragged piece of paper. "I see you've made some progress?"

"I think this might be the thing, Harry," Hermione nodded, her smile wide and delighted. "The program allows real-time face-to-face conversation from anywhere in the world, and it's not too expensive to run. We'll just have to get someone to set Hea - Dr Ryan up with the same system and you can begin therapy again. Honestly, we should have done this months ago. I can't believe I didn't think of it."

"I didn't either, Hermione, don't beat yourself up too much," Harry patted his friend on the arm, smiling up at Kurt from across the room. "I guess I'll need a new computer to do it from, since mine's busted."

"Is it?" Kurt looked over his shoulder with a frown. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, turns out having a person bodily thrown into it isn't good for the screen," the wizard shrugged as everyone else winced, too calm surrounded by his family and boyfriend to panic at the memory again. "I might need a new phone too. I actually don't know where a lot of my stuff is, or what condition it's in."

"Maybe my dad can take you over there in a few days," Kurt suggested cautiously, his eyes assessing Harry in the reflection of the window. Harry nodded, fighting back the rush of fear at the thought of going back to that house - that house that he'd once thought of as home. He'd felt safe in that house once he'd gotten used to how big it was; his bedroom was like his own personal domain. But thinking back to how he'd felt in that moment when he'd realised Remus had let him down, how he'd been beaten down emotionally and physically as surely as if he had been with the Dursleys... it didn't feel like home anymore. Now home seemed to be Kurt's bedroom, maybe even just Kurt's bed. Nowhere else felt safe to him.

Hermione's hand on his arm brought him out of his brooding. She was yawning when he looked up at her, clearly trying to suppress it but too exhausted to force it down.

"Harry, Ron and I might get going soon," she managed to get out around her yawn. "We just wanted to let you know what our plans were, and see if you were okay. I don't know about Ron, but I'm a bit -"

"Completely shattered," Ron supplied helpfully as Hermione yawned again. "We'll come back tomorrow when Kurt's at school, but-"

"No, yeah, of course," Harry nodded, getting to his feet to hug Ron goodbye. "You guys get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow when you're feeling better."

"Oh, your bag, I brought a bag with some of your stuff," Hermione dragged herself to her feet and staggered into the hallway, grabbing a sports bag Harry recognised as one of the ones he owned but had never used. She dropped it on the kitchen table and hugged Harry with one arm, waving to Kurt with the other. "I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt. Thanks again for everything."

"My pleasure, Hermione. Have a good sleep. You too, Ron," Kurt waved the knife he was using in their direction before turning back to his cooking.

"I'll walk you out," Harry gestured towards the door after Ron had mumbled his goodbyes, and the three Wizarding teens made their way to the front door.

"I found your wand, Harry, it's at the bottom of your bag in the locked wooden box," Hermione informed him in a whisper when they reached the front door. "You'd left it in Remus's room, on the bed."

"Right, I don't remember doing that," Harry shook his head, scratching his arm where his holster should be. "I suppose there's not much point putting it back on yet. It's nothing short of a miracle no-one has felt it yet, given how often these people hug, and it's not like I can use it."

"True, but keep it close," Ron ordered, pulling the shorter boy into a one-armed hug as he opened the front door. "It never hurts to be cautious."

Hermione made some joke about Ron being the next Mad-Eye Moody, but Harry didn't really hear it. He was staring at the suddenly open front door, staring out into the quiet street.

_There's a whole world out there_, he thought distantly, taking in the neighbour across the road getting out of his car, a cyclist riding past, a dog barking in the background._ There's a whole world out there that I haven't been a part of for a week, and I forgot it. A whole world, and now I'm afraid of a living room window. Is this what happened to Remus? Six months in St Mungos and he forgot how to be in the world? I have to get better. I just have to. I don't want to forget how to be in the world again._

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Hermione's voice called him out of his introspection, and he looked up at her with surprising calm. She and Ron held identical looks of concern, but Harry just shot them a strangled smile.

"No. No, not at all. But I really want to be," he looked out at the street again, at the little slice of life he could see through the open door. The neighbour was inside now, and the cyclist was long gone. The dog had stopped barking, replaced by the sound of cars from the next street over. A baby started crying next door. "I really can't wait to start living again."

PancakeMixLordOfPantopia


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: University is great! On Thursday I found a room full of lesbians, fondue, and free alcohol! I don't remember the next four hours, but I'm sure it was epic! However, having to read a Charles Dickens novel a week and having about six essays due in the same two days makes finding time to write really difficult. As it is I'm writing at work when his Honour takes twenty five minutes to say, "Lol you're screwed," and I have nothing else to do. I do have a brief study break coming up though, so I'll put that to good use (not studying).

Someone mentioned having concerns that I'd make Karofsky a bad guy in here, but anything I do with that character will be as close to canon as possible; I'm very fond of Max Adler and I could never make him irredeemable. Also, someone else pointed out that I should have a trigger warning on this story, and they're absolutely right. I should have thought of that, and I really hope no-one has been put at risk because of my absent-mindedness. I'll be adding a brief warning to the AN in chapter one immediately.

I have gotten started on the next chapter, but I have five readings due on Monday and four on Tuesday and so it might be a while before I can get to it again. Love to all! I have to admit, I have been reading out some of my reviews to my (very patient and indulgient) friends and family. They make it all worth while!

* * *

When Burt got home Kurt had finished dinner, leaving it to stay warm in the oven. Harry was sitting cross-legged on Kurt's bed, going through the bag of possessions Hermione had brought for him. He smiled at the pictures of his parents tucked carefully between two soft jumpers, and made a note of the locked wooden box he assumed held his wand. It felt good to be wearing his own clothes for the first time in a week (just a grey t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, but it felt safe and comfortable in a way that he hadn't realised clothes could make him feel) and after a weak protest he'd let Kurt brush his hair off his face. Kurt was doing homework at his desk, tapping away on his computer, the two of them content in companionable silence. Hearing the front door open made Harry flinch, but settling back against Kurt's pillows helped his heart-rate slow a little. Burt's footsteps up the stairs were familiar, Harry having gotten very good at hearing the man coming when he and Kurt were kissing on Kurt's bed in the past, so when the gentle knock on the door arrived he wasn't startled. The door opened slowly, the brim of Burt's hat edging around the side first. When he saw Harry sitting up, dressed and smiling, his eyes went wide, and he slipped into the room.

"Will Schuester called and said you were awake, but I wasn't sure if you still would be," Burt breathed, looking between his son and the other boy with a wide smile. "Harry, kid, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Harry shrugged and gave Burt a small smile. "I only had one anxiety attack since I woke up, and I'm pretty shaky but I'm okay."

"Good, that's - that's real good," Burt sighed a little, rocking back on his heels and failing to hide his relief. "Do you need anything? Have you eaten and stuff?"

"Of course he's eaten, dad, give me some credit," Kurt huffed, but he ruined any offended effect he might have sustained by jumping up and hugging his father around the chest. Harry looked down while the father and son held one another, awkwardly shuffling his clothes in the bag until the Hummels finally pulled apart. Kurt was wiping his eyes discreetly, clearly trying to pull himself together. "Hermione got him something to eat when he first woke up, right Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry nodded demurely, looking down at all his clothes. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me this past week, Burt. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't-"

"You don't need to thank me, kiddo," Burt waved his thanks off, slipping his hands into his pockets with a shrug. "At this point you're family. Don't worry about it."

"I do need to thank you," Harry argued weakly, pushing his bag off of his lap and getting shakily to his feet. Both Burt and Kurt reached forward to help steady him when he wavered a little, but he managed to keep his feet underneath him as he grasped Burt's wrist. "Really. You've done so much for me for no reason at all, when you didn't have to do anything. Most people would just have dropped me off at the hospital and been done with me."

"That was never an option for me," Burt said firmly, gingerly ruffling Harry's hair.

"So what actually happened today? Schuester only gave me a heads up that Kurt was probably gonna come home," Burt looked between the two boys as he helped settle Harry back on the bed. Kurt looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow, and the wizard shot him a reassuring smile back. Burt went on carefully. "I mean, when did you wake up?"

"A little after lunch time?" Harry guessed, thinking back to those first few hazy minutes. "I was pretty confused after I first woke up. Hermione was there, she filled me in on what was going on, how long I had been sick and that sort of thing."

"And Schuester came in after that?" Burt confirmed. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, Hermione went to get me some food and sent him in. It just - he left, I ate, I took a shower, I took a nap. Mostly I've slept today, I think. I can't tell, though, I'm still completely exhausted," Harry smiled wryly as he sank back against Kurt's pillows again. Kurt took over as he fussed with the cushions beneath Harry's head.

"I got home at about 3, I skipped out of Glee," Kurt admitted shamelessly, sitting down next to Harry and tangling his fingers with his boyfriend's. "Harry and Hermione were both dead asleep. A few of our friends came over after Glee, at around 4, they didn't stay long, though."

"That was when I had the anxiety attack," Harry added, blushing a little. "Brittany said something - it was totally innocent, Brittany doesn't mean any harm but. But yeah. That's pretty much been my day. A whole lot of sleeping and eating and freaking out. Not exactly productive."

"No one expected you to be perfectly fine right away, kid," Burt patted Harry's ankle and exchanged a fond look with Kurt. "Well, except maybe Finn, but we make allowances for him. We know it's gonna take more than just a week of drug withdrawal to help you feel better, and that's fine. We're happy to do it."

"I'm going to get better," Harry couldn't help but blurt out, feeling suddenly like he should promise. "I will."

"We know, Harry," Kurt squeezed his hand, looking up at Burt. "Dad? Can Harry and I eat dinner up here tonight? I don't think - I mean, dinnertime exposure to Finn is traumatic enough when you're not already stressed out -"

"Kurt, be nice to your brother," Burt warned, rolling his eyes as Harry snorted into his hand. Kurt tossed his head a little and turned up his nose a little.

"Dad, he eats like a school of starving piranha descending on a bleeding lamb. It almost gives me an anxiety attack every day, let alone right now. So, can we?" Harry grinned a little at Kurt's snarking, ignoring the heat in his cheeks at the truth behind Kurt's request; Harry couldn't handle being around too many people right now, particularly Finn, and especially not outside Kurt's room. Burt was already nodding.

"Yeah, sure. I'll bring it up when the rest of us eat. Carole should be home in about an hour."

"Good, that gives me some time to finish my chemistry homework," Kurt sighed a little, pulling a face when he looked over at his desk. Harry frowned a little, following his gaze.

"I guess I'm going to need to catch up with homework and stuff," Harry's sigh matched Kurt. "At least McKinley's work is easier than Ho - Gallant Hall."

"I bet it was," Burt muttered, looking immediately like he regretted it as Kurt looked over at him sharply.

There was an awkward pause as Kurt and Burt exchanged uncomfortable looks. Harry looked between them suspiciously, taking in the high flush on both of their cheeks, the way Kurt was almost glaring at his father and Burt couldn't meet his eyes. A cold feeling rose up in the bottom of his stomach, rising to his throat. He sat up slowly, cautiously.

"What - " Harry began, his voice catching. Kurt caught Harry's hand again, squeezing it hard as he could. "Er - is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Kurt soothed him, his smile suddenly fake. At Harry's disbelieving look he insisted. "No, really, Harry, everything is fine, we just - there's something we should probably tell you. Dad?"

Burt shifted uncomfortably, and at Kurt's curt nod he started talking.

"Harry... while you were withdrawing, you were hallucinating and dreaming and stuff," Burt began, looking around the room and lowering his voice. "And you were - you were talking. In your sleep and your - your visions or whatever. You kept saying - you were giving people orders."

Harry sat perfectly still, his heat beginning to race so fast he could feel it in every finger, in every nerve in his body. Burt went on gently, his voice quiet, "Me and - me and Schuester began to think, you know? It wasn't just one time, it kept happening over and over, and we started puttin' things together..."

"They know, Harry," Kurt interrupted gently, slipping an arm around Harry's waist. "I didn't - I just confirmed what they already worked out, so they wouldn't ask any more questions. I remembered what you said, and I promise, I didn't want to tell anyone and I made them promise not to tell anyone else, it was just - "

"This wasn't Kurt's fault at all," Burt interrupted as Kurt's voice began to rise in pitch and pace, his arm around Harry's still frozen body winding tighter. "It really wasn't. And we know how important it is that we don't talk about it. I haven't even told Carole, and I'm not in a habit of keeping things from my wife."

"Did you know," Harry interrupted, a thought warming the terrified frost in his chest enough that he could feel his lips twitch up into a smile. "That you two babble in the exact same way when you're nervous or guilty?"

Kurt let out a shocked giggle, clapping a hand over his mouth. Burt cracked a smile too as Harry took a deep, shaky breath. He felt like he'd been physically struck; this was what he had been so afraid of, what he'd been trying so hard to avoid. It didn't feel real that it could have happened, that he could have let his (second) greatest secret out without even knowing he'd done it. But Kurt and Burt were still staring at him trepidatiously, eyes wide and brows tensing, and he found himself reassuring them without even knowing he was doing it, "I don't - I'm not angry. It's nobody's fault but - it's nobody's fault. I just really wish you didn't know. What do - what do you know?"

"We know that you were, you know, military," Burt slowly sat down on the bed next to Harry's feet. He cringed sympathetically when Harry's breath caught in his throat. "And that you - Kurt said you weren't lying about how you grew up, just about the school and stuff."

"I didn't lie," Harry protested, rising up a bit against Kurt's side. "I didn't, I wouldn't do that. I just left some stuff out, I'm not - I'm not a _liar_. I really did go to boarding school and everything I just - I just - "

_Became a murderer as well._

"Whoa, you just went dead pale there, kid," Burt reached forward but hesitated when Harry twitched back.

_- Murderer, murderer - they wanted a weapon and they got it, I'm just a weapon -_

"Harry, breathe," Kurt brushed a lock of hair from behind Harry's ear. Harry realised with a start that his face was damp with a sudden rush of tears, and when he tried to breathe in it was on a sob._ Okay, okay, don't panic, just calm down, nothing's wrong, don't panic._The father and son waited patiently for Harry to get control of his breathing, to calm the wave of fear and horror and loathing that he felt whenever he thought back to last year. After a moment he managed to stop his soft sobs, but he could still feel himself shrinking back into himself.

"Sorry," he muttered, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. _Just stay calm, stay calm._"I'm, uh - I don't like to think about - about the things I had to do."

"Fair enough too," Burt grunted, clapping his hand onto Harry's ankle. "I ain't gonna make you talk about it, I figure you'll do that with your therapist or whoever. But you can talk to me if you want to, and you gotta know - it doesn't make me think less of you."

"You would if you knew," Harry whispered, wincing as soon as he did. _No, no no stop, don't think about it more, just drop it._Before he could open his mouth to apologise Burt raised his hands.

"You told me that first day, when I was bringing you from your house, that you'd hurt people. I told you that I didn't care. When you said that, I thought you just meant you were a bully or something. Why the hell would I give a damn now that I know you were just a kid being forced into a bad situation?"

"Because I _hurt_ people, you don't understand," Harry choked up as the fear rose up again, almost overwhelming him as he clung closer to Kurt_. Fuck, I can't - he doesn't know, he doesn't really know, I have to I have to I have to _- His boyfriend made a sympathetic noise and let Harry tuck his head into the crook of his neck holding him close.

"Hey, it's okay. We won't talk about it anymore. Just know that we still care about you, we don't blame you for it, just take a deep breath, sweetie."

"I didn't mean to scare him like that," Harry could hear Burt mumble through the roaring in his mind. Kurt sighed a little.

"It's hard to know what will set him off. It's okay. He'll be fine in a minute."

"You weren't meant to know," Harry could vaguely hear himself moan into Kurt's shoulder as he shook. "You weren't meant - people can't know. People know and they're going to take me away - I don't want to go away, I don't want people to know."

_Murderer, monster, weapon..._

"No-one else will know, Harry, I promise you. No-one is going to take you away from me," Kurt pressed a fierce kiss to the crown of Harry's head. There was shifting behind the wizard, a heavy weight landing on the bed, and Harry flinched and sobbed harder when to large hands suddenly grasped his shoulder.

_No no no no get away, get away! Please don't hurt me, uncle Vernon, please please no no no -_

"Harry, Harry!" Burt's voice called distantly. "Nothing's gonna hurt you kid, come on!"

"Dad, that's not helping, give him some space. Sweetie, just listen to my voice. You're safe, baby, I promise, you're safe."

_Safe Kurt's here, everything is fine just stop pathetic, pathetic, nothing's wrong, just stop just stop why don't you just just just -_

"So _sick _of this!" Harry snarled, ripping himself from Kurt's arms and raising his hands to tug on his hair. His fear was suddenly drowning in bright hot rage, anger at his own lack of control pressed sharp and swelling under his skin, mixing with the anxiety until it was a kind of furious hysteria. "What am I _doing_? Why am I so scared, nothing is wrong!"

"Harry, stop, you're hurting yourself!" Kurt's voice was far away, drowned out by the boiling frustration making Harry tug and scratch at his skin. _So pathetic, so useless, relying on Kurt to do everything, he deserves better than a monster, a stupid useless worthless monster -_

Strong hands grabbed Harry's narrow wrists and pulled them away from where he was striking his head with clenched fists. He snarled unconsciously and fought against the iron grip he found himself in.

_No no no gotta do it, gotta hurt deserve it, I deserve _all _of it -_

"-I deserve it, let me go I _deserve it_," he babbled mindlessly, struggling against the hands holding his arms still. "Let me do it, let me _die_, I deserve it I hate myself, I _hate _myself I deserve this -"

"Christ, kid, no you don't! Hold up a second, Jesus."

The strong hands grasping his arms turned into strong arms wrapping around his torso, pinning his arms against a broad, flannel-covered chest, keeping him still. He struggled for another minute, his anger-fuelled adrenaline rush still pounding through him, but eventually it began to fade. It felt like coming down from an anxiety attack without the fear; he first became aware of the stinging in his face and head from the little scratches and bruises he had given himself, then the aching in his arms from struggling. His chest was burning, and so was his throat - had he been screaming? He could barely remember what he'd been doing at all. There were still-wet tear tracks streaking his face - he hadn't even realised he was crying. He could suddenly hear his own harsh breathing, slowing down from its once-dangerous pace but still rasping, still dry and heaving and painful with every inhale. He could also hear something else, a gentle crying close by, but he wasn't crying anymore so who - ?

_**Kurt.**_

It was Burt holding him still, Burt who had pinning his arms so he couldn't keep hurting himself. But Kurt... Kurt had seen it all.

"Fuck," Harry muttered to himself, his energy draining from him as the last of the fog in his mind disappeared. He slumped down, pulling back as far as Burt would let him. His hands were still shaking as he stared down at his clenched fists where they rested against Burt's chest. "Fuck, I..."

"You with us again, kid?" Burt's voice rumbled above him, and Harry nodded dumbly.

"Y-yeah," Harry coughed as his abused throat spasmed. "Yeah, I - god, I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," Burt grunted, loosening his grip around Harry's arms. He let the teenager settle back a bit, but stayed cautiously close. "You gotta know it's not your fault, kiddo. None of this is, not really. You're just - you don't deserve it."

"Dad, please," Kurt's choked up voice wavered over from the other side of the room, and both Harry and Burt looked over at him. Harry's stomach dropped when he saw his boyfriend; Kurt was pale and weeping silently, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"Kurt, I'm sorry," Harry pleaded, his voice crackling and weak. Kurt shook his head and rushed forward, pulling Harry away from his father and into his arms.

"I don't blame you, Harry. I just - god, I just _hate _seeing you in so much pain."

The room became uncomfortably silent as the three men processed the chaos of the last minutes. Burt eventually cleared his throat.

"Harry, kid, what was that? I mean, I know you can't control it but that looked like you did when you were still fighting the drugs," Harry cringed at Burt's weary words. The teenager shrugged, looking down at his knees.

"I don't - I don't know. I was just - it was an anxiety attack but then I just got so angry I couldn't contain it - " he cut himself off when Kurt shuddered against him, the taller boy still trembling faintly. "Kurt? Love, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I know, I know, Harry, don't worry about that," Kurt pulled back from where he'd been pressing his forehead to Harry's shoulder to give his boyfriend a weak smile. "You're still in recovery. It'll take a while before this sort of thing stops happening. It's just - the things you were saying..."

Kurt trailed off, his beautiful blue-green eyes welling up with tears again. Harry glanced nervously between Kurt and Burt.

_The things I was saying? Merlin, what was I saying? I don't remember, I just remember how it felt, fuck, what did I say?_

"I don't - I don't really remember what I said," Harry admitted carefully, squeezing Kurt's arm a little and looking up at Burt. "But, you know, I was pretty hysterical, I don't think you need to worry - "

"Kid, you said you wanted to die," Burt interrupted him gently, shooting his shivering son a compassionate look when he flinched. Harry blanched and shrank back a little, a vague recollection tickling at his mind.

_Fuck, I probably did say that. Shit, this isn't good._

"The way I see it," Burt went on, watching Harry's expression carefully. "That you're thinkin' like that, even when you're hysterical, that's a reason to worry."

"I didn't mean to say that," Harry whispered, looking down again. Kurt tapped his cheek gently with one long finger, making Harry look up and catch his eye,

"You were hitting yourself," Kurt began slowly, carefully, the barely veiled horror in his eyes not letting Harry look away. "Saying you deserved it, screaming that you hate yourself and that you want to die. You just - I've never - is that - is that how you actually feel?"

"Kurt, I was hysterical," Harry protested, digging his nails into his thigh through his jeans, pleading internally for Kurt not to pursue it. For all his skill at hiding things, for all his ability to think on his feet to cover up every magical mishap that happened around him, there was no way he could lie straight to Kurt's face. Not now, not after everything Kurt had done for him. But his pleas went unheard, because Kurt just shook his head, his forehead wrinkling into a frown.

"That isn't an answer, Harry," he said sharply, softening when Harry bit his lip and looked down. "Sweetheart, please. Just tell me. Do you really think you deserve this?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, before nodding a little, "I've done such bad things, Kurt..."

"You don't need to explain it to me right now," Kurt soothed, reaching forward to run a hand down Harry's arm. "And I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. Right now, I just want to know what you're thinking, okay? I don't think you deserve it and you know that, I hope, but please, just - just tell me."

Harry nodded slowly, his eyebrows rising slightly at the way Kurt visibly calmed down as he spoke. Over Kurt's shoulder Harry could see Burt giving Kurt a similar look, sort of impressed, surprised and proud all at once. Kurt noticed the looks he was getting and blushed a little, "I've been reading a lot of psychology books in the last couple of months, okay? I wanted to be able to be there for you."

"You didn't need to do that," Harry whispered, feeling a little awed. Kurt shook his head, smiling a bittersweet smile.

"One day, Harry Potter," he began gently, the familiar phrase comforting both boys. "You will believe me when I tell you that I don't have to 'have to' do things for you to _want _to do things for you."

Some of the tension in the room bled away with the teasing tone in Kurt's voice. Kurt began to rub his hand up and down Harry's arm slowly as he began again, his attempts to keep his voice calm and soothing failing a bit as fear clawed at him.

"You don't - you don't have to justify it, just please tell me if you're - do you really h-hate yourself that much?"

Kurt's voice slipped into pleading towards the end of the sentence. Harry looked away.

"Oh Harry," Kurt's voice was sad, and Harry shrugged.

"It's always kind of been there, that feeling," he picked at a loose thread on his jean pocket, his lips twisting in a humourless smile as he thought back. "I guess hearing that you're a worthless waste-of-space every day for a decade kind of does a number on you."

"Well, I love you and think you're amazing, and I'm clearly smarter than your family, so I must be right," Kurt tried to sniff disdainfully, but with his voice wavering like it was it sounded more like a miserable sniffle. "But I'm not going to try and convince you right now. I need to know - we need to know if..."

"...if I really want to die?" Harry supplied when Kurt's breath hitched a little. His boyfriend nodded, mouth tense and pinched as he waited for Harry's answer. Burt was staring at Harry with similar intensity, and the wizard found himself staring over the man's shoulder at the door just to escape their looks. He thought for a moment, knowing that every second he hesitated was breaking Kurt's heart. "I don't... want to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you, love. And I know that if I didn't anything to myself - if I killed myself - that would hurt you. So I'm not going to. And I'm happy here, for the most part - in America, I mean. I'm happy a lot, but... I don't really feel like I deserve to be."

"So... you're saying that you _do _want to die," Burt deduced, shaking his head a little. Harry squirmed.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," he repeated, looking down at his hands. Kurt shifted and sighed, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes.

"That's not a no, but all right. That's all right. Just as long as you remember that if you do die I'll be so damn heartbroken I'll probably cry forever, we can work with this."

"Well I certainly don't want you to cry forever," Harry shot his boyfriend a weak grin, taking the paler boy's hand in his. Burt reached over to clap a hand on Kurt's shoulder, smiling when Kurt reached up to rest his hand on his father's.

"I think," Kurt began after a moment, a hint of a yawn hitching his words. It triggered a yawn in Harry, making the wizard notice that he was completely exhausted. "That Harry and I would both like to cuddle and nap right now, dad. Do you mind if we have a couple of hours?"

"Of course," Burt got to his feet slowly, the slump in his shoulders making it look like he might be as tired as the two boys. "I'll wake you up when we're eating. It sure smells good in the kitchen, buddy."

"Thank you, dad, we're having lasagne and salad," Kurt waved him out of the room, chuckling softly after the door was shut and murmuring to Harry. "Don't tell him that it's vegetarian and low fat. I want to see if he notices."

"Right. Noted," Harry let himself fall back against Kurt's familiar pillows, pulling his boyfriend with him. Harry gladly sank into his embrace, wriggling around so he was at Kurt's side, resting his head against Kurt's chest.

Kurt sighed deeply, his arms tightening around his boyfriend. "Gucci, I can't remember the last time I was this tired. I could sleep for a month."

Guilt hit Harry again, and he winced, "I'm sor-"

"Don't apologise again, you idiot, I don't regret a minute of it," Kurt huffed, poking Harry's side. "And I'd do it again but GOD. Yeah. Long week."

"Long DAY too," Harry added. "And I've only been awake for a couple of hours."

Kurt hummed an agreement and began running a hand down Harry's back. They lay quietly for a moment, but a niggling thought pressed on Harry's mind.

"Thank you," he whispered against Kurt's chest. When Kurt's body stiffened underneath him he hurried on. "I know you don't think I need to thank you for anything, but I really do. You've done far more for me than I deserve, so just - thank you."

To Harry's surprise, Kurt didn't rush to dispute him. He just stayed silent for a long moment, before sighing again.

"You're better than you think, you know," Kurt murmured. When Harry raised his head off of Kurt's chest to protest his boyfriend gently guided him back down, shushing him. "No, just listen. I know you don't like yourself after everything you've done. I know there are things about you that I don't know. And I don't want to argue with you about it - I know it's going to take more than me telling you that you're amazing to get you to believe me, but... it's a start. So please, Harry, indulge me? Let me just - tell you what I see in you."

Harry stayed quiet, unease warring with a deep affection in his chest. He nodded slowly, his face still pressed just above Kurt's heart, and Kurt let out a sigh.

"Okay."

There was a long silence as Kurt thought, and Harry shifted a little uncomfortably. He didn't like people telling him how good he was; he wasn't perfect, he was a messed up, needy, weak murderer, yet people treated him like he was a saint. _I'm not, I'm not I'm not I__** can't be**__-_

"You're not perfect," was the first thing Kurt said, and Harry started against his side. Kurt laughed a little, petting Harry's back. "I know that's an odd way to start a pep-talk, but I need you to know that I don't put you on a pedestal. I'm well aware of your faults, sweetheart. You're stubborn and short tempered and oblivious and you don't think things through before you do them. I _know _all of that. And every single one of those things make me love you more. Your temper made you stand up for me when no-one else did. Your stubbornness is the only reason you can stand against my own. And if you weren't oblivious you may not have fallen for me as perfectly as you did. And you're so compassionate, and brave, and generous and funny and smart - I know you don't believe me but damn it, I'm going to keep telling you until you do."

Kurt gasped in a breath when he finally finished, his cheeks flushing pink. Harry raised his head enough that he could look up at his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow, "...you do realise you didn't have to say all that in one breath?"

Kurt poked Harry in the side, huffing, "You _would _only pick up on that. But I'm serious, I think - "

"I know," Harry interrupted, stretching his neck to press a gentle kiss to the bottom of Kurt's chin. "I know, love. And I don't believe all those things are true but... I believe that you believe it."

"Well, that's a start," Kurt pecked the top of Harry's head and squeezed the boy closer to him. "Now let's nap until dinner; my homework can wait."

Harry smiled and let his eyes slip shut, happy to forget the constant uncomfortable feeling in his gut in favour of curling close to Kurt's side and letting himself drift off.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: One day I plan to be bold and NOT start a chapter with Harry waking up and end the chapter with him falling asleep. Really. One day I'm sure I'll manage it. I can't help it! It's just such an easy, logical place to end things, and I'm _terrible_ at beginnings and ending. Particularly endings. Also this fic is SO LONG. CHARACTERS WHY WON'T YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY. I have about another six or seven chapters AT LEAST in my head, and I've only finished 3 assignments out of the 20 I have this semester at uni. Please kill me.

God, I don't even know. I'm sure there are many wonderful insightful comments I could make, thanking reviewers and answering questions but I'm so tired. All the time. Also I always update late at night when I should already be in bed because I don't know, I'm a terrible person I guess. I have to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning, and I need to leave an hour earlier to get there on public transport, so I'll be up at six, and I probably won't fall asleep until about 2 even if I go to bed now at 10. I'm so tired.

* * *

The gentle knock on the door didn't wake Harry up - Kurt's yelp when Harry unconsciously grabbed him at the sound did. The wizard sat up in one movement, going for his missing wand holster again as Kurt rolled off the side of the bed.

"Harry!" Kurt yelped from the ground. "Good grief, it's just someone at the door!"

"Sorry!" Harry rubbed a hand over his face, scrambling over to Kurt's side of the bed to help his boyfriend up. Kurt's hair was sticking up at every angle but Harry was still too shaky and confused to laugh. "Sorry, I was - I didn't -"

"It's fine, sweetie, I'm just grumpy when I wake up," Kurt waved off Harry's apology around a yawn, sitting back on the bed and running his fingers through his hair. "Come in!"

The door began to creep open as Harry tried to rub the fuzziness out of his eyes. It felt like barely any time had passed at all, but the last beams of sunlight that had been slipping through the window when he'd fallen asleep were gone, replaced by the white light of the street lamp. Kurt reached over to switch on his bedside lamp, sending vaguely ominous shadows across the room, bathing the figure in the doorway in light. Harry's stomach dropped when the figure's height registered; he'd assumed that the person knocking was Burt or Carole, but neither of them were nearly that tall.

"I brought you dinner," Finn shuffled his feet in the partially open doorway, balancing a tray with two plates on it against his hip. Kurt's head snapped around from where he had been staring at his hair in his vanity with horror, his blue eyes widening when he saw his brother hovering at the entrance. "Burt, uh, asked me to bring it up. Can I come in?"

"Um, maybe - just give me the tray," Kurt scurried forward, shooting a worried look at where Harry sat perfectly still and silent on his bed. "We're pretty tired, so thank you for bringing this up but could you please go?"

"I wanted to talk to Harry," Finn protested, looking over Kurt's head desperately. "Please? Just for a minute."

"Finn, I really don't think now is the best time," Kurt warned him. Harry surprised himself by speaking up, his voice oddly calm and even.

"It's okay. I'll talk to Finn."

Finn's face split into a grin even as dread rose in Harry's throat. He didn't want to speak to Finn - didn't want to be reminded of _"He's dangerous, Kurt, he hurt Azimio,"_or of Finn's back as he'd run off down the hallway - but the other boy was so hopeful he couldn't say no. It would have felt like kicking a puppy. So Harry focused on keeping his breathing even and ignoring the memories of Finn's voice calling him dangerous as Finn sat down at Kurt's desk.

It wasn't easy. Finn had been one of the first people to really welcome him to the US when he'd first transferred - after Kurt had introduced them and Harry had stood up to the jocks, he had taken it upon himself to integrate Harry with the boys of New Directions. He'd always invited Harry to video game nights, and staunchly stood up for him and Kurt when they walked down the hallways together. They weren't super close, but Harry liked Finn. They were friends - or they had been. Hearing Finn call him dangerous and warn Kurt away from him, watching him flee rather than speak to him when the whole school thought he was a freak... it had hurt more than Harry had thought it would. _How is it that I've been in this country for less than a year but these people have already gotten so deeply under my skin?_

"I, uh - just wanted to say, um. Sorry for being so weird before you got... sick," Finn cringed at Kurt's quiet huff, and hurried to specify. "I mean, I'm sorry I said you were dangerous and avoided you and stuff. I shouldn't have been so, like, not-sensitive. I was just worried about Kurt, you know? I mean, I'm his brother, I'm meant to protect him, but I should have thought about what you were going through. Rachel did a bunch of research, she said you've got this thing called - called post-dramatic distress disease or something and that's what was making you so jumpy -"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Harry corrected faintly. He felt a little light headed, a bit detached from the scene. Finn nodded eagerly, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Right! That. She said that your anxiety attacks and stuff were, like, completely out of your control. I didn't - she said you really couldn't have stopped yourself hurting Azimio if he scared you at the wrong time, but that you wouldn't hurt Kurt or us because we know not to touch you and stuff and we wouldn't attack you and - it was really confusing but she said that you're not dangerous, you're just sick but you'll get better and I didn't - I didn't get it. So I'm really sorry I was a jerk to you, Harry. So, so sorry."

"It's all right," Harry murmured, slowly grasping at the blankets underneath his hand. Something was dawning on him slowly, something that distracted him enough that he didn't notice Kurt's start when he said, "You - you really have a point."

"Harry," Kurt sighed, but Harry shook his head.

"No, really - I'm not being self-deprecating or anything, I'm just thinking - from Finn's perspective I really would have looked dangerous. He didn't know I had PTSD - how could he? He didn't know that I was actually _ill_. From where he was standing I just lost my temper and randomly almost broke someone's arm, and then spent time alone with his brother."

"Yeah!" Finn enthused, shrinking back when Kurt hit him with a deadly glare. "I mean, I'm still sorry that I was a jerk but-"

"I get it," Harry interrupted. It felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders; Finn didn't hate him. He just didn't _know_. It was like he'd told Burt - Finn was just a kid. Like Puck and Brittany and well, all of them. Harry included. "I do, Finn. Consider your apology accepted. I'm sorry that I've taken over your house recently."

Finn laughed a little, visibly relaxing, "Dude, you couldn't even walk. Where else were you going to go?"

"Yes, well, that's all very well and good but I think Harry and I should eat now," Kurt burst in before Finn could make Harry blush any deeper. Finn jumped a little before clambering to his feet, lumbering towards the door.

"Right! Yeah. It's really good lasagne, Kurt, thanks for cooking."

"You're welcome," Kurt smiled a little, angelic and innocent. "I'm glad you enjoyed your low-fat, vegetarian meal."

"Wait, what?" Finn yelped as Kurt shut the door on his back. Harry smiled when he could hear Finn through the door. "Dude, that's just wrong."

"So that went well," Kurt said brightly, grabbing the dinner tray off his desk and bringing it over to his boyfriend. "I was worried Finn was still going to be weird about it, I hadn't realised he genuinely didn't understand that you were diagnosably ill. I forget that he needs little words and simple explanations sometimes."

Harry nodded, taking his plate from Kurt's outstretched hands gratefully.

"Yeah, that was the easiest thing I've done all day," the wizard sighed a little, mostly content. "If only everything else could be that easy. I still have to work out where I'm living and how to speak to my therapist, and catch up with school work and get to the point where I can actually go back to schooommmph."

Kurt shut Harry up quite effectively by shoving a tomato from the salad into his mouth while he spoke. While Harry did his best to chew and not choke, Kurt shook his head, "Yes, Harry, you're going to be busy in the next couple of weeks. Now shut the hell up, stop worrying, and start eating. After dinner I have to finish my homework, but after that we're watching Snow White and Mulan and forgetting that this week has sucked, and that next week will probably suck too. All right?"

"Yesh Kuwt," Harry managed to get out around the second piece of tomato he'd been assaulted with when Kurt had thought he was about to interrupt. He focused his attention on the meal in front of him; Kurt was right, he'd have enough to worry about tomorrow without starting today.

* * *

_It was dark, it was so dark and he needed to get out. The wolf was right behind him, growling in rage and spit flicking onto the back of Harry's neck as he ran, he ran and he ran through the darkness. He was tripping on things, what was he tripping on? Bodies everywhere, on the ground and he was tripping over them, slipping in their blood but ignoring them, abandoning them so he could get away from the wolf. He reached the door and it was locked, he was clawing at it but it was locked and he couldn't get out-_

The cold water hitting the back of his head shocked him awake, pulling him back to the land of the living with a muffled cry and a thump as he hit the door. For a moment he was confused - where _am I, this isn't Kurt's room, this isn't my room, where where where_ - but Kurt's voice hissing out, "Harry! Harry!" brought him down. Harry looked around wildly, confused and out of breath and... _wet._

"Did Hermione tell you to do that?" he murmured, rubbing the back of his head and shaking the water off of his hand. Kurt let out a strangled laugh.

"She said it - that throwing water on you from a distance, I mean - was one of the only ways to wake you without risking triggering your - your training," he whispered back, placing the empty glass in his hand on a nearby table. Harry looked around the room with blurry eyes - he didn't have his glasses on, but he could tell that he was in the Hummel living room. It was still dark, and the only light in the room came from the lamp beside the couch where Kurt had been sleeping.

"How the hell did I get out here?" he wondered aloud, and Kurt shook his head.

"I woke up to find you staggering down the stairs," Kurt walked forward to help Harry to his feet. When the wizard was upright Kurt straightened out his pyjamas fussily, smoothing back Harry's hair and yawning a little. "It took me a few seconds to work out you were asleep. Come on then."

Harry let Kurt slip an arm around his shoulders and lead him away from the door, leaning gratefully into his boyfriend's side as his heart-rate slowed and the last of the sleep cleared from his eyes.

"So now I can add sleepwalking to my repertoire," Harry deduced, shaking his head. He started when Kurt pulled him past the couch, leading him towards the kitchen. "Um, love? Where are we going?"

"To the moon," was all Kurt replied, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, all right, stupid question, but why are we going to the kitchen?"

"So I can get you some warm milk," Kurt guided Harry through the kitchen door and into a chair at the table, patting Harry's cheek affectionately when he looked confused. "Do you like warm milk?"

"I - don't recall if I've ever had it?" Harry squinted at nothing, trying to recall if any of his (admittedly many) late night excursions to the Hogwarts kitchen with Ron had included warm milk. He couldn't remember any, and when Kurt tutted Harry shrugged. "We drank this thing at my school - it was like warm, buttery ginger beer - when we needed to sleep. Or anytime we could get away with it really, it was delicious."

"Well so is warm milk, just give me five minutes," Kurt yawned as he grabbed a pan from the cupboard, putting it on the stove while he went to the fridge. Harry couldn't help but yawn along with him, becoming aware of the exhaustion seeping into his bones. If he squinted a lot he could see that the clock above the fridge said it was a little after three in the morning, so he'd slept for at least six hours, but he felt like he'd been up for days.

He and Kurt had watched Snow White and Mulan on Kurt's laptop, cuddled up on the bed with a big bowl of popcorn Carole had made for them. Kurt had then put on Sleeping Beauty but, somewhat poetically, Harry had fallen asleep before Maleficent had even arrived at the party. Kurt must have snuck downstairs at that point, though Harry couldn't imagine how; when he'd fallen asleep it had been with his head resting on Kurt's shoulder.

"You don't have to keep sleeping on the couch, you know. We can swap," Harry drummed his fingers on the table, peering out through the open kitchen door to the blurred image of the blankets tossed over the back of the couch. Kurt shook his head as he watched the pan, stirring the milk with a wooden spoon.

"I don't think so. If you've started sleep walking during your nightmares I don't want you that close to the door with no-one there to stop you."

"That's - that's a good point, actually," Harry let his words trail away, scowling at his hands_. Goody. Now they're probably going to have to lock me up at night, if not tie me down. But they can't tie me down, if my magic comes back it'll lash out if I'm restrained. How can I stop myself from sleepwalking? It's not exactly a conscious action - hell, I'm asleep, it's unconscious by definition. I'll have to ask Hermione if there's a potion or something... but can I really ask more of her than I already have? She's got so much on her plate, I don't want to add to that-__  
_  
Kurt plonking a mug on the table in front of him jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He picked up the mug with a quiet, "Thank you," waiting until Kurt had sat down with his own mug to take a sip.

"This is quite good," Harry noted, squinting at the mug as if trying to divine its contents. "Is there honey in it?"

"Honey and a little hint of vanilla," Kurt confirmed, smiling as Harry took a longer sip. He toyed with his own mug for a few moments, sipping at it slowly, before he say it down and reached for Harry's hand. "Do you want to talk about what you were dreaming?"

Harry winced against his mug, letting Kurt intertwine their fingers as he thought. The wizard stared into his milk as he replied, "It was just the usual sort of thing, really. I was running away - I guess that's why I was sleepwalking. I don't know."

"What's 'the usual sort of thing'?" Kurt asked gently, giving Harry's fingers one last squeeze before dropping his hand and picking up his mug. "You've never - we've never really talked about what you dream, just that you do."

When Harry hesitated Kurt hurried to reassure him, "You don't have to say if you don't want to, sweetie. Or if you can't. But I want you to know I'm happy to listen."

"I know," Harry smiled, glancing up at Kurt through his fringe. Even without his glasses he could see the way Kurt's eyes sparkled, and it warmed his heart as surely as the milk did. "I know I can, but I don't want to - they're sometimes memories, and they can get pretty gruesome."

"You don't need to go into details if you're worried about scaring me," Kurt reassured him. "But I'm not too easy to gross out. My mom, she - it took her a long time to die. She had stomach cancer, and it was... messy. I was only a little kid, so I couldn't really help but I was around it, you know? I'm not overly squeamish, is what I'm saying."

Harry had grabbed Kurt's hand the moment he'd mentioned his mother, listening carefully as Kurt spoke. Kurt didn't often speak of his mother, and Harry cherished every moment he did; he never felt closer to his boyfriend then when Kurt was sharing those private parts of himself. Kurt took a deep breath when he was done, composing himself as Harry squeezed his hand.

"It's not always the same thing. The same part of my life, I mean. I'll dream of fighting, of my uncle, of Remus..." He trailed off, the growl and snarl of the werewolf ringing in his ears. Kurt watched him with compassion as Harry forced a weak, fake laugh. "Usually it's a combination thereof, though. Like, I'll be running from my uncle and all of a sudden there's blood on my hands and Kingsley is on the ground..."

Harry's breath caught, and Kurt grabbed his hand again. The other boy have the wizard a moment to compose himself before asking, "What was it tonight?"

"Remus," Harry whispered, looking down at the table without really seeing it. "Just - I felt so betrayed. I still do. He promised he'd never hurt me and then he just - he could have killed me. I think he was trying to. I know he didn't know who I was but he tried to _kill_me. And I keep dreaming about it. About running through the house, trying to work out how to stop him without hurting him, about how if I didn't and he got outside he might go after the neighbours or something. And I can still hear the wolf right behind me - "

"The wolf?" Kurt interrupted, startling Harry out of his musing. By the time Harry looked over at him he was already shaking his head and waving it off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted, go on."

_Crap, I called Remus a wolf, how can I explain that, there's got to be something - wait, I could tell him... and it's actually kind of true...__  
_  
"It was his codename," Harry looked down at his mug, mind working overtime. "Wolf was Remus's codename, when he could fight. It's just easier to think of the - the man who attacked me as the wolf rather than Remus."

"Wolf," Kurt repeated slowly, tilting his head curiously. "Did that have any significance or...?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed humourlessly. Even though he was technically lying, it felt like the truth. "Because he was a gentle guy usually, but sometimes he turned into a beast. Like a werewolf."

"Gosh," Kurt let out on a breath. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it's - it's accurate."

They sat quietly sipping their milk for a few moments, before Kurt looked over again, "What else do you dream?"

Harry thought. He'd never really talked about his dreams before - Hermione and Ron knew he had nightmares, but they mostly assumed they were just about Voldemort and fighting. For the most part that was true, but sometime... "I dream about being a little kid again, sometimes. About my uncle, my - my blood family."

"They hurt you, didn't they?" Kurt whispered, grasping Harry's hand. The wizard glared down at the blurry tabletop.

"He never put me in hospital or anything," he murmured, thinking back to the dark days of his childhood. "But they'd slap me if I got in their way or did something wrong, and once or twice he - he used his belt. When I really screwed up. It was mostly..."

Harry trailed off, staring at the wall as Kurt traced gentle patterns onto the back of his hands. He took a deep breath and tried again, "I didn't even know my name until I went to school when I was five. They just called me _boy_. I was cooking and cleaning from the age of about three - not just chores, but all of the washing, all of the dusting, the gardening, the sweeping, the vacuuming - anything I was big enough to do, I did. And then I slept in the cupboard under the stairs, because my cousin needed two bedrooms just for all his toys, and the guestroom was for my uncle's sister when she visited. They told me I was worthless, a waste of space... that I should have died with my drunk father and my whore mother."

A gentle hand on his cheek made Harry pause. It wiped away tears Harry hadn't realised he'd let fall, and the wizard looked over to his boyfriend bleakly. Harry couldn't tell without his glasses, but it looked as though Kurt had teared up too. Before he could lose his nerve he forced out the rest of his thoughts, "I just keep going back there in my dreams, back to being that subhuman creature that couldn't protect itself... or I go back as myself, and I can't keep myself from tearing them apart. I mean, I hate them but I don't want to be a murderer-"

Kurt's lips pressing firmly against his shut Harry up before he could begin to panic. After a long moment Kurt broke the kiss, leaning across to rest his forehead against Harry's.

"Harry, you know I don't like to swear much," Kurt began, making Harry blink in confusion.

"Uh, yeah?" Harry asked, but Kurt just shushed him and continued.

"I don't like to swear because I can usually find a way to express myself without resorting to vulgarity. But sometimes you need to fight obscenity with obscenity, so believe that I am being completely honest when I say that your aunt and uncle are massive fucking bastards."

Harry choked on a teary laugh, and Kurt went on vehemently, "They were _totally_ _fucking_ _stupid_, they were _totally_ _fucking_ _evil_, and they, not you, are _total fucking monsters_. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Kurt," Harry wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but Kurt was unmoved.

"Repeat after me: 'my aunt and uncle are stupid.'"

"My aunt and uncle are stupid."

"'My aunt and uncle didn't know what they were talking about, I'm _awesome_.'"

"My aunt and uncle didn't know what they were talking about."

"'I'm awesome.'"

"I'm awesome."

"'They are _monsters_for doing that to a child.'"

"They are monsters for doing that to a child."

"'I did nothing to deserve the way they treated me, and they can go to hell.'"

"I did nothing to d-deserve the way they treated me, and they can definitely go to hell."

"'Also I am handsome.'"

"Nice try, Kurt."

"It was worth a shot," Kurt shrugged, grinning a little at Harry's droll look. "One day, Harry Potter, you will be as charmingly vain as me."

Harry snorted, propping up his head on a hand, "You're not vain, you're always complaining about your weight, your skin, whatever."

"Ah, but I don't complain about my hair," Kurt waved a finger in Harry's face, flushing when Harry caught the hand and pressing a kiss to his fingertips.

"You shouldn't complain about any of it," Harry kissed Kurt's knuckles next, gazing up into what he could see of his boyfriend's eyes. "You're so handsome."

"I'm so pale," Kurt mumbled, his eyes glued to where Harry was still pressing feather light kisses to his palm. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Kurt, because an Englishman is really going to have a problem with pale skin," Harry arched an eyebrow, kissing the blue veins that almost glowed on Kurt's pale wrist. "Really, love? I love your skin. It's so soft and smooth, and you seem to glow sometimes. It's really lovely."

"Well, who am I to disagree with such passionate defence of it," Kurt agreed breathlessly, his cheeks still pink as Harry turned his hand over to press one last kiss to the back of it.

They were quiet for a second, before Kurt ventured to ask, "You were saying before - it just made me wonder, you don't have to tell me... did Ron and Hermione have codenames?"

Harry perked up a little, his mind moving from Remus and the Dursleys or even his own insecurity to something he could actually tell the truth about, "Not official ones, since they weren't technically meant to be fighting, but we gave them ones - me and the Au - other soldiers."

"Can you tell me what they were?" Kurt smiled, leaning forward conspiratorially. Harry laughed a little, thinking of Ron and Hermione's faces when they'd first gotten their names.

"Ron was Cannonball," Harry began, remembering Ron's delight with the name; one of the Aurors suggested it when Ron's orange hair reminded him of the Chudley Cannons, without even knowing that it was Ron's favourite team. Hermione had been less pleased with her nomenclature. "Hermione's was Skirt."

"Skirt? Why Skirt?" Kurt laughed a little, sipping at his cooling milk. Harry grinned back.

"She turned up to battle still wearing her uniform, including the short pleated skirt," he shook his head at the memory of the good-natured teasing Hermione had gotten from the Aurors for her less than battle-appropriate attire. "She wasn't happy when the name stuck. Didn't think it was dignified. Ron got himself a lovely bruise by pointing out that running around a battlefield flashing her knickers wasn't exactly dignified either, but she'd done that."

"Oh, poor Hermione," Kurt giggled to himself, rocking back in his chair. "She's got so much to give, but she'll forever be remembered as the Battle-Flasher."

"I dare you to call her that the next time you see her," Harry teased Kurt lightly, knocking his boyfriend's foot with his own and drinking from his mug. Kurt shook his head.

"There is nothing on this Earth you could give me that would make me do something that stupid," Kurt drained his mug and dropped it back to the table. "I may not know her as well as you do, but I know her well enough to realise that I would probably lose my testicles if I called her that to her face."

"Almost certainly," Harry agreed, going to take another sip of his milk. To his surprise only a little bit was less, and he drained the mug in a single sip. Kurt had already finished his, and when Harry put his mug down the taller boy stood and picked it up.

"Why don't we," Kurt began, taking both mugs over to dishwasher. "Go and sleep on the couch. You must be sick of my room, and I'll have to be up in a couple of hours anyway. We can cuddle until I have to get ready for school. I'm not sure I'm going to sleep anymore anyway."

"Can we?" Harry rubbed at his eyes, smiling sheepishly at his boyfriend. "I can't think of anything I'd like more than for you to be holding me right now."

"With pleasure," Kurt confirmed, holding out a hand and squeezing when Harry took it. The boys made their way back into the living room, Kurt settling on the couch first so Harry could snuggle up against him. Harry fell asleep listening to Kurt's soft, sweet voice singing gently against his hair, his long fingered hands rubbing circles on Harry's back;

_No one's gonna hurt you,  
No one's gonna dare.  
Others can desert you,  
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there._

Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while,  
But in time...  
Nothing can harm you  
Not while I'm around...


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Next chapter! Still tired. I can't feel my face. So many essays. Getting back into writing, though, this chapter is pretty long. And I have a solid idea of where I'm going to start my next chapter, so that's good. Um, there was something else I was going to say here but yeah. I can't remember. I like university, I'm liking it a lot more than I thought I would, but it takes up a lot of brain... thinky...ness. I can't think with my brain anymore because it's full of Post-Modernism and Discourse Communities and stuff. Which is interesting and all, and there's lots of nice, intelligent people and everything but yeah. My eyeballs feel like marshmellows... somehow. I'm _really_ tired. I'm going to go to bed now.

Wait, I should thank everyone who reviewed, because you're all super awesome and full of win and everything, and I wish much happiness and fluffy puppies to everyone. And people who don't review, you guys are cool too. I don't leave as many reviews as I should, so I know how that goes. But I hope you're enjoying it! Um, yeah. Bedtime.

* * *

Waking up with Kurt's heartbeat against his ear was probably Harry's favourite way ever to come back to the world. The steady beat was indescribably soothing as he opened his eyes to the morning light slipping between the curtains of the living room window. It was still quiet in the Hummel house; it couldn't have been more than six in the morning. Kurt was sleeping underneath him, little snores huffing out of him every few breaths and his arms still loosely slung around Harry's waist. Harry smiled a little, looking at Kurt's sleep-slack face; he looked so peaceful in his sleep. Not like Harry, who Ron had once kindly said looked like he might bite anyone who got too close.

Kurt's lips were slightly parted, and they looked so pink and inviting in the warm light of the morning that Harry couldn't help but wriggle up far enough to kiss them lightly. Somehow Kurt's lips seemed even softer than normal, despite Kurt having been asleep, and Harry hummed a little against them before pulling back with hooded eyes. He kissed Kurt again when the boy began to stir underneath him, smiling against Kurt's mouth as Kurt began to return the pressure. Kurt let out a happy sigh when Harry kissed him again softly as he woke.

"That," Kurt mumbled, blearily blinking his beautiful eyes open. "Is the nicest way to wake up ever."

"I agree," Harry kissed him again, gently, before allowing Kurt to push him into a sitting position. "So you did sleep after all."

"I did," Kurt rubbed his face, patting down is sleep-mused hair and trying to wake up. "I fell right asleep. Gaga, what time is it?"

"I don't know, I can't see the clock from here," Harry reached over Kurt to grab his boyfriend's phone from the coffee table next to the couch. He fumbled with it for a moment, pressing on the screen until he remembered the button on the top. Once he got it working he squinted at the little screen. "It's quarter to six. Might as well get up then."

The two boys shuffled around, kicking off the blankets and struggling to their feet. Kurt shooed Harry up the stairs - "My shower will take an hour, yours will take five minutes, you go first." - and began to fold up the blankets as Harry began dragging himself to the bathroom. He stopped in Kurt's room to grab a change of clothes and his glasses, and pick up the blankets from the floor where he must have thrown them in his sleep, before making his way to the bathroom. The hot shower woke him up, and by the time he was drying himself (smelling like lavender and apricot this time) he wasn't yawning anymore.

Harry slipped on his glasses before he put his clothes on to check on his bruises in the mirror. Most of them were a sickly greenish-yellow, though a few were still a deep purple-red. There were still a few faint, unhealed scratches here and there, and he was somewhat disturbed by how his ribs were pressing against his skin, but somehow he looked better than yesterday. Less tense, maybe, or more awake. Harry smiled a little at his reflection, and he managed not to cringe when the pale, bruised, scarred little creature in front of him smiled back, one corner of his mouth lower than the other because of the pale pink scars ripping through it. The wizard hurried to put his clothes on after that, getting tangled in his sweater in his rush to get out of the bathroom.

Kurt was in his room when Harry got there, staring critically at the shirts he had in either hand. They looked much the same to Harry, if slightly different shades of grey, but apparently they were causing Kurt great consternation.

"Everything all right there, love?" Harry came up behind Kurt, slipping his arms around the boy's waist and leaning his head on Kurt's back. He could feel Kurt huff against his ear.

"I've been pretty slack in the fashion stakes this past week," Kurt informed Harry without looking up, scowling and squinting at the two shirts. "I need to make up for it with something fabulous. I've got that new pair of Docs I haven't worn yet, the purple ones with the silver laces that you liked so much, but I'm not sure whether it'll look better with the raw-silk button up with silver buttons, or with the pure-cotton button up with hidden buttons. What do you think?"

"...the first one?" Harry suggested, not bothering to look at the shirts first. _They look pretty much the same._"The, uh - the silver buttons will look good with the laces?"

Kurt nodded thoughtfully, and Harry took that time to slip away and begin making the bed. As Kurt began muttering to himself, disappearing back into his expansive closet to find the right pair of pants, Harry straightened the sheets and pillows, carefully arranging Kurt's decorative pillows on top of the duvet as closely to how they had been a week ago as he could. Kurt hadn't emerged by the time he was done, still shuffling clothes and opening and shutting drawers. Harry looked over when he heard a thump from inside the depths of the closet, and he shook his head as he made his way over.

"Are you all right, love?" the wizard asked, peering through the doorway. There were belts all over the floor and a box on its side next to them, and Kurt was sorting through them with manic energy. He looked up at Harry from the ground, his eyes wide and panicked.

"I think I've forgotten how to accessorise," he almost whimpered, clutching handfuls of belts in front of him. Harry shook his head, stepping into the closet gingerly and tugging the belts out of Kurt's hands.

"I think you're overtired and overwrought from a week of stress, and you just need to take a deep breath-" Harry grabbed two random belts and held them up so Kurt could see. "-and pick a belt. Which one of these looks best with what you've already got?"

"The one on the left," Kurt decided reluctantly, looking down at the belts on the floor. His eyes focused slowly, and he reached down and picked one up. "But this one with the leaf pattern would look better..."

"Great, wear that one," Harry quickly swept up all the other belts in his arms, dropping them back in their box and shoving it out of the way. Kurt looked like he was about to protest, and Harry shook his head. "Don't second guess yourself. You're a fabulous fashionista and you wouldn't have picked that if it didn't work."

"It does work," Kurt admitted, some of the tension in his shoulders relaxing a little. He rocked to his feet, helping Harry up as he dropped the belt onto the jeans he had rested on a small chest of drawers. "You know me too well, Harry Potter."

"Will you be okay now?" Harry accepted the kiss on the cheek with a smile, and Kurt shooed him from the room.

"Yes, Harry, I am capable of dressing myself," Kurt huffed a little. "...At least, I am when I'm not, you know, exhausted and overwhelmed by options."

"You've had a long week," Harry agreed, wandering over to Kurt's desk to idly straighten the stack of textbooks on it. "I cried last night during Mulan when the Great Stone Dragon broke, if you recall. We're all a little overly emotional."

"Harry, I don't know which scarf to wear!"

"On my way," Harry quickly made his way back into the closet when he heard Kurt's frantic voice. He may not have known a damn thing about clothes or fashion, but if nothing else he could catch the boxes of accessories it sounded like Kurt might drop on his head.

* * *

Kurt was in the shower by the time there was any other sign of life in the house. Harry was flicking through Kurt's textbooks, trying to work out how many would be useful to him given that he and Kurt were taking different classes, when he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he called softly, resting the books back on Kurt's desk. Harry smiled when Carole slipped into the room. She was still in her pyjamas, her dressing gown open and the belt dragging along the floor. She was as bleary eyed and exhausted as Burt had been the day before, and Harry realised again with a guilty jolt how much taking care of him had taken out of the Hummel family. Carole was the only one of them he hadn't seen yesterday; she'd gotten home a little after Burt and hadn't come upstairs. It struck Harry then how much of his care-taking would have been done by Carole. She was a nurse, after all, and Mr Schuester had said she had been the one to... change his clothes and such. And unlike Burt and Mr Schuester, she'd still gone to work every day. _No wonder she looks tired._

"Oh, sweetie, it's so good to see you up," Carole hurried across Kurt's room to Harry's side, wringing her hands a bit as she came to stand in front of him. "I can't believe - gosh, I saw you yesterday morning but you look like a different person."

"It's amazing what being _compos mentis_does for your appearance," Harry agreed, stepping aside to offer Carole the desk chair. He kept talking even as she waved him off with one hand, dragging her dressing gown closed with the other. "I didn't get a chance to see you yesterday, Carole, and I'm so sorry I didn't come out to see you -"

"Don't be ridiculous, honey, you needed space," she interrupted, but Harry shook his head.

"No, it was rude, I - I talked to Burt and Finn but I didn't even... I was still just really fragile and I didn't want to..." Harry trailed off when he realised he was rambling, looking down at his feet rather that at Carole's somewhat pitying expression. Tears were stinging in his eyes for what felt like the millionth time in the previous 24 hours, and he was mumbling when he went on. "You've been so good to me. I may not have been aware of it at the time but I know you cared for me this last week. I can't thank you enough, really, and I'm sorry I didn't thank you sooner."

"You're quite welcome, Harry," Carole hesitated for a second before pulling the teenager into a hug. Harry froze up a bit, startled by the sudden contact, but he managed to relax enough to stop himself from pulling away. She wasn't as comfortingly soft as Mrs Weasley, being considerably thinner, but she was warm and soothing in that way only mothers had ever seemed to be for him. She held him close for a moment, carding her fingers through his still-damp hair, before pulling back and looking him over critically. "Oooh, you're much too skinny for a boy your age. We tried to keep you fed last week but you couldn't keep anything down. How about you come down stairs and I make you some toast? Kurt's going to be another half an hour at least, there's no point waiting up here."

When Harry hesitated Carole softened, squeezing his shoulders, "That's only if you're ready to come downstairs, honey. I could always bring it up here."

"No, no, I'll come down with you," Harry assured her, starting towards the door and waving her ahead of him. "I'm just... not very hungry. Or I am, but I feel kind of sick still, I guess?"

"A week of vomiting will do that to you," Carole said wryly, patting him on the shoulder as she lead him down the stairs. "Don't worry, honey, I'll make it easy on you. Toast with butter, orange juice and fruit should stay down just fine."

She was right, and within an hour Harry had eaten and was sitting on the living room couch watching Kurt and Finn run around trying to get ready for school. Kurt had had a bolt of inspiration about his outfit based on his leafy belt and had had to run upstairs to change his shoes twice and his scarf once, leaving his book bag packed neatly next to the door. By comparison, Finn had thrown his clothes in five minutes after stumbling through a two-minute shower, but he couldn't find his history textbook, his pencil case or his phone. Harry just watched the madness, bemused, occasionally sharing a look with Burt when a frustrated shriek or confused yelp drifted down from upstairs.

"Are they like this every morning?" Harry asked, picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt. Burt nodded with a wry grin.

"Yeah, pretty much. I don't know how I'd do it without Carole."

Carole did eventually find everything Finn was missing, but in ended up being Harry who extracted Kurt from his room and out the front door with a wave and a kiss on the cheek. Carole was on her way to work minutes later, shouting over her shoulder that, "There's sandwiches in the fridge, boys, eat whatever you like!"

"Do you have to go to work today?" Harry asked Burt in the ringing silence they were left in. Burt shrugged.

"Not urgently. Your friends called last night - Hermione and Ron? They're going to come over in a little bit."

"Oh," Harry thought back - _Hermione said she was going to buy a computer today, maybe we can get started on that. _"Okay, good."

There was a comfortable pause as Burt picked up the newspaper from the side table next to his recliner, leaning back and flicking straight to the Sports pages. Harry leaned back against the couch and breathed in; it still smelt faintly of Kurt's shampoo from the night before.

"You're doing really well, kid," Burt said out of nowhere, making Harry look over at him curiously. Burt hadn't looked up from his newspaper, but there was a little smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. "We didn't know what you were going to be like when you got out of the drug-withdrawal crap but I know I didn't think you'd be this good this soon."

"I'm adaptable," Harry shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. He didn't feel like he was doing particularly well; he was constantly on the verge of tears and panicking, how well could he be doing? But Burt was already shaking his head and lowering his paper, pinning Harry with a compassionate stare.

"You're stronger than you realise, kiddo. With everythin' you been through - hell, I don't know how you do it without going completely mental. And I know you don't think that the things you do - being with Kurt in public, joining Glee club, whatever - you don't think that stuff is brave but it really is. Most teenagers are terrified by that stuff but you just - okay, you might be scared or nervous or whatever, but you do it anyway. And now you're - well, you're sick. You're ill, and you're still takin' care of Kurt in your own way, makin' sure he don't freak out over his clothes and stuff. You take care of people without even thinking about it. The fact that you can even _do _that... you _are _strong."

Harry looked down at his hands. _Helping Kurt pick out his clothes... that's nothing. Isn't it? I just wanted to calm him down, I don't like it when he's upset..._

"Don't give yourself a headache over it, kid," Burt chuckled a little, picking up his newspaper again. When Harry looked back at him the man waved him towards the TV remote. "You spend too much time thinking. Watch the idiot box for a while. You know how to work the cable?"

"Yeah, Kurt showed me how a few days ago..." Harry trailed off, frowning. "Actually that was last week. Huh. I keep forgetting I effectively lost a week."

"Yeah, must be weird, stop thinking now," Burt pointed to the TV again with a firm, if amused, look. "Or read a magazine or something. Relax. Your friends will be here in a little while and I got the feeling that they got some stuff they want you to do."

"Yeah, me and Hermione are going to set up my new laptop with Skype," Harry flicked the TV on and frowned down at the remote. _Which one was that cartoon channel? _"So I can talk to my therapist."

"Why don't you just get a new one close by?" Burt looked over his paper, and Harry sighed a little as he went on. "I'll help you find a good one if that's the problem, I can make some calls -"

"I can't just see any therapist," Harry interrupted, ignoring the redness staining his cheeks in favour of looking resolutely at the tennis match on the TV. "I, uh - the sorts of things I'll probably talk about are, er. Secret. You know. State secrets and all that."

"Oh, right, right. Sorry," Burt ducked back behind his newspaper, clearing his throat. "I should've thought of that. You don't have a computer at home?"

"Remus threw me through the screen," Harry smiled a little wryly, stamping down thoughts of his former guardian as Burt visibly cringed, even behind the paper. "Well, into my desk, anyway. I knocked the computer off then, I think. It's a bit of a blur. It happened really fast."

"Jesus, kid," Burt huffed out a breath, lowering his paper again and staring at Harry incredulously. Before he could ask anything else Harry shrugged and pointed to the screen.

"It's done now. Is this baseball? I don't think I've ever watched a game before."

"Yeah, and this was a good one. World Series '07, good game. I'll explain it to you."

Burt spent the next half hour trying to explain the game to Harry, who just did his best not to look as bemused as he felt. The wizard found himself suddenly missing Quidditch something fierce; after having flown hundreds of feet in the air, dodging Bludgers and searching the skies for a tiny glint of gold, muggle sports just seemed boring. _I should get a new broom and find myself a field some time. _The baseball lesson was cut short by a knock on the door, and Harry could hear a familiar voice drifting under the door. He shut off the TV as Burt walked to the door, bracing himself for impact.

Hermione barrelled into the house the second the door was open, her arms stacked high with books and boxes, not sparing the gobsmacked Burt a glance.

"Harry, I've got some ideas that I think we can expand on," she burst out, not even looking over at Harry as she strode briskly across the room. "I'm going to make it as easy as possible but it is a little bit complicated so I hope you're more awake today, we need to get this done, and I hope you don't mind but I went out a bought a couple of laptop computers this morning with your money so you could pick one and I will send one to your therapist and I'll keep one so Ron and I can keep up with you too but first we have to set up this program, it's just fascinating the way the world is changing..." her manic voice faded as she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Burt blinking in the doorway and Harry stifling laughter on the couch. Ron was poking his head the front door by that point, and he shot Burt a sympathetic look.

"Sorry about that, mate. She had a lot of coffee this morning, and she's kind of on a roll," he clapped the man on the shoulder, shaking his head at the faint sound of Hermione's continued ranting from the kitchen. "She had the poor sales boy almost in tears at the computer shop, she bloody steamrolled right over him. He looked a lot happier when she filled up a cart full of stuff, though."

"I bet he did," Burt rumbled, a chuckle building up in his chest. He looked over at Harry with a dazed smile. "Suddenly I get why you're so good at dealing with Kurt when he gets in one of his moods."

"Yeah, there's a lot of similarity between Kurt in a fashion-fugue and Hermione in a learning-fugue," Harry got to his feet and stretched, relaxing into himself as Ron crossed the room to clap him on the back. "I'd better go join her before she bursts a blood vessel."

"You're on your own, mate, I've been with her all bloody morning," Ron groaned a little, collapsing onto the couch Harry had just vacated. "She's never thought about - you know, electronimacal stuff before, so now there's a whole world of things for her to learn about and she's acting like she's in first year again. I think she might want to pull one of those lappy computers apart to see how it works."

"She and your dad should get together and talk about it when you guys get back," Harry suggested, thinking back to the little shed at the back of the Burrow that was overflowing with outdated, broken down electrical products that Mr Weasley had taken apart and tried to put back again. Ron shook his head in horror.

"Do not even suggest it to her, Potter. We'll never see either of them again."

"If you guys are gonna be okay here," Burt interrupted, making both Ron and Harry start - they'd forgotten he was there. "I might take off for the garage for a little while. Jim's kid has a cold so we're understaffed today."

"Right, of course, we'll be fine," Harry nodded, feeling a little bashful for having ignored the man. Ron nodded earnestly, his ears turning pink.

"Yeah, we got it. Sorry for taking over your house like this," Ron winced when a slight thump was heard from the kitchen, followed by Hermione swearing colourfully. "Um, I promise we won't break anything."

"It's fine, boys, have fun," Burt wandered to a side table to grab his keys, patting Harry on the shoulder as he made his way to the door. "I should be home a bit after lunch, okay, Harry? Don't forget to eat."

"Don't worry, Mr Hummel, there's no chance of me forgetting to eat," Ron grinned, and Harry nodded as he waved Burt out the door.

"See you later, Burt," Harry turned to face the kitchen door when Burt was gone, shaking his head when he heard another thump from the kitchen. "I don't suppose you're going to help me with her?"

"Nope," Ron settled back against the couch cheerfully, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cell phone. "I spent the last two hours picking up shop displays and old ladies she knocked down in her quest for knowledge. I'm going to sit right down here and make my phone calls in peace. You're on your own with the crazy woman."

"Thanks, mate," Harry rolled his eyes, crossing to the kitchen. "Wish me luck, then."

"May God have mercy on your soul," Ron called over, smiling brightly as Harry stepped into the kitchen.

It was pretty much exactly how he'd imagined it would be. There were half a dozen laptops set up around the room, the cords and wires overlapping so they could all stick in a power-board sticking out of the wall. The computers' boxes and manuals were strewn around the counter-tops, random gadgets and gizmos that must have come as a package were stacked up on the kitchen table. Hermione was wrist deep in the circuit board of a seventh machine, pulling out a small chip and squinting at it carefully, peering between it and an open textbook resting next to her. Hermione hadn't had a good research project for a while; legal rights for all magical beings had become very samey and repetitive after a while and she'd been complaining about being in a learning rut for months, so Harry guessed he shouldn't really be surprised by her enthusiasm.

"Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously, stepping over an open laptop and next to Hermione at the table. She didn't look up from her squinting.

"I can't tell whether this is a graphics card or a video card," she informed him, flipping a page of the textbook. Harry blinked at her.

"What's the difference?" he peered at the chip in her fingers. It looked like a piece of plastic to him. Before Hermione could answer he shook his head. "Wait, no, what does this have to do with Skype? Kurt said it runs on any decent computer."

"Well, yes, but..." Hermione trailed off, lowering the chip in her hand slowly, her cheeks going pink. "...it's really interesting...?"

Harry shot her a wry smile, "I have no doubt. Would you like me to leave you alone with your computers for a while?"

"No, no, we'll get this done," she carefully replaced the little chip and put the case back on the bottom of the computer, tapping the base until it clicked back into place. "Sorry, it's just that I've been out of the muggle world for so long and there have been all these technological leaps and I've fallen so behind-"

"Feel free to take whatever with you to look through," Harry offered, slipping into a seat and looking over the disaster-area kitchen. "I only need one computer out of all these."

"Yes, well," Hermione coughed a little, not meeting Harry's eyes. "...there may be a couple more in your car."

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes, "Does the word excessive mean anything to you, Hermione dear?"

"Oh hush, I was being thorough," Hermione huffed, picking up a bit of packaging from the ground and vanishing it with a wave of her wand and a muttered spell. "You can pick any one you like, but the man at the store said that one over there was the best."

"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged, dragging himself to his feet to look at the computer Hermione had pointed to. It looked like all the others to him; he really didn't know the difference between the various kinds of computer. Hermione was sending computers sailing back into their boxes with her wand, and she waved Harry towards the table.

"Come on, bring it over and we'll get started. I managed to get in touch with Healer Ryan, he's happy to try this; I'll have to go back to help him set it up, though. It shouldn't take too long on this end."

"I think you're underestimating our very computer illiterate I am," Harry plopped back into his seat, carefully placing the laptop on the table. Hermione waved a hand.

"I think you're underestimating what an excellent teacher I am. Now plug it in and let's get this done."

When Hermione and Harry wandered out of the kitchen about an hour later, Hermione's voice hoarse from explaining and re-explaining the ins and outs of the program, Ron was still on the phone. He had a hand over his eyes and was sprawled back against the couch, his mouth pinched and teeth gritted.

"I understand that, Mr Armstrong, but this isn't exactly a usual situation. The so-called child in question will be 18 in less than six months," he was sighing into the phone line. He waved at Harry and Hermione when he noticed them out of one eye, before returning his hand to cover his face. After a pause Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, I understand your position, but as I stated earlier there is no family. Not in the US or the UK. The only blood relatives are in the UK and they have given up all guardianship rights."

Hermione put an arm around Harry's shoulder when the shorter boy tensed, pressing a gentle kiss to his hair and whispering in his ear, "Don't worry about it, love. Ron will deal with it. Even if he has to lie."

"I'd rather he didn't have to," Harry bit his lip, digging his nails into his palms as Ron continue to argue on the phone. "If it got out that he had lied during legal proceedings he could lose his place in the Auror training - "

"Harry, it pains me to admit it but the Wizarding World - well, specifically the British Ministry - does not give a damn whether or not we break muggle laws. As long as it can't be traced back to the magical world, it won't make a difference."

"Still," Harry muttered, digging his nails in harder as guilt welled up in his chest. Ron had begun to rhythmically hit his head against the arm of the couch, obviously beyond frustrated with the bureaucracy he was being inundated with. "He shouldn't have to - he shouldn't have to deal with - "

"You shouldn't have had to re-furnish your entire kitchen last summer, but you did, because Ron set it on fire," Hermione rolled her eyes and began to lead Harry out of the living room and up the stairs. "Sometimes friendship means doing things that aren't fun, lovey. He doesn't mind. Just buy him a nice birthday present and he'll consider it a job well done."

"I tried to get him the Cannons for Christmas, but they aren't looking to sell," Harry admitted mournfully, opening Kurt's bedroom door and shuffling inside. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He almost refused to accept the Firebolt 2, so he probably would have objected to an entire Quidditch team," Hermione sat on the edge of Kurt's desk, pulling Harry into her arms so she could kiss him lightly on the forehead. They stood like that for a moment, almost-brother-and-sister giving and receiving comfort, before Hermione sighed sadly. "I'm going to have to go home soon."

"I know," Harry nodded, his voice just as quiet as hers. She squeezed him a little tighter.

"I want to stay, Harry. It's just - the Ministry found out I was out of England, and they're rushing to put through a bunch of laws that will undo everything I've done before I can rally the public to stop them-"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, sensing the tension and guilt in Hermione's voice. "It's okay. You've worked too hard to lose that, and I'm doing pretty well anyway. I'll have the Hummels and my friends here and Healer Ryan and I know you and Ron are just a phone call away. When do you have to leave?"

"Within the next two or three days, at the latest," the witch admitted reluctantly, pulling away from Harry to look him in the eye. "Are you sure you'll be all right? Because I might be able to -"

"I will be _fine_," Harry shook his head firmly. "Honestly, Hermione, what else could go wrong?"

There was a pause, and they both cringed.

"Oh, Merlin, I shouldn't have said that," Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Something is going to go horribly wrong now, isn't it?"

"Almost certainly," Hermione giggled a little, shoving Harry's arm gently. "Good one, Potter."

"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!" he protested, rubbing his shoulder as though he'd been wounded by her gentle push. "So what terrible thing do you think is going to happen because of my foolishness? The Apocalypse, maybe?"

"At least," Hermione agreed solemnly, a happy twinkle in her eye belying her serious expression. "Some horrid calamity, certainly. Maybe a bunch of Deatheaters will decide to take an American road trip and run you over."

"Maybe Snape will show up on my doorstep declaring his undying love for me, refusing to leave without a kiss."

"Maybe I'll get back to England and find out the Rita Skeeter is my new neighbour."

"Maybe Hagrid will get a new career as an international supermodel and we won't be able to go anywhere without seeing pictures of him in bikinis."

"Maybe Molly Weasley will decide that this summer was just a fluke, and if she tries even harder you'll marry Ginny after all."

"Don't even joke about that," Harry grumbled, shuddering a little at his memories of the many awkward moments over the summer. The Weasleys had stayed with him in Grimmauld Place for a few weeks, during which time Mrs Weasley had apparently decided that she wanted Harry for a son-in-law. The woman's vision was clear: she'd get to call Harry a son, and Ginny would get to marry her childhood hero. What she didn't take into account was the fact that Harry considered Ginny a sister, and Ginny didn't like limiting herself to one significant other at a time. All of the forced romantic "dates" Mrs Weasley had less-than-surreptitiously set them up on usually consisted of them talking about Quidditch and whether or not Ginny should try to date Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas at the same time. To call it uncomfortable would have been an understatement. "Thank you so much for your help with that, by the way. I particularly appreciated you telling Mrs Weasley that I had a thing for red-heads and that I was humming _Here Comes the Bride_ in the shower. Both of which were blatant _lies_."

"You're welcome," Hermione replied airily, not meeting Harry's glare. She just smiled at Kurt's mirror without a hint of guile, casually fixing her hair as though she didn't have a fierce look pinned on her. "I was happy to help."

Harry rolled his eyes, "How is Ginny, anyway? I haven't heard from her since I came to the States."

"She's fine, still doing her sixth year," Hermione grinned a little. "Still going through boyfriends and girlfriends at a rate of knots. I think she's dated half the sixth year class at this point."

"Ah, well, if it makes her happy," Harry shrugged, relaxing back on Kurt's bed a bit. "Did she ever tell you why she chose not to fast-track her graduation like we did? I mean, she was offered that option, right?"

"Everyone who fought was," Hermione confirmed, looking a little more serious. "So most of the now sixth-and-seventh years. For all their faults, the Ministry was smart enough to realise that expecting children to spend a week defending themselves in battle before going back to being kids the next year was a bit much. Most people chose to go back, though. Get some semblance of normalcy, I guess."

"Did anyone other than the three of us, Neville and Luna?" Harry asked, looking down at his hands. He was trying not to remember the siege, not to think about watching the fifteen and sixteen year olds he'd studied with for years fighting for their lives, but he couldn't help but be curious. He hadn't really heard about the Wizarding World's recovery from the war; everyone had tried to protect him from the details. Indeed, Hermione still looked conflicted as to whether or not to tell him, even months later, but she eventually nodded her head.

"A few. Mostly Slytherins who'd ended up fighting family members. I know Draco Malfoy did. I haven't heard a thing about him since his father's trial in November."

"Was he testifying for or against Lucius?" Harry frowned a little, thinking back to what he could remember of Draco Malfoy from before he'd left. He knew that the Slytherin had spoken out against the Deatheaters that last year; Hermione had told him about it. Malfoy was still a bigot and a right prick, according to both her and Ron, but he hadn't seen any reason to kill or wipe out muggle borns and muggles. Hadn't had the stomach for it, Moody had grumbled at the time. Harry didn't really know. He'd only seen Malfoy once during the entire siege - he'd been with Blaise Zabini, shepherding a group of first and second years through the fire and the fights. They'd exchanged less than ten words -

("Potter! Where do we - "

"Hufflepuff Common Room, go!")

- but from what Ron and Hermione had grumbled over the year ("I swear, if I hit him again, Harry, it'll be a punch, not a little slap like third year.") he hadn't really redeemed himself otherwise. Harry was wrenched back out of his thoughts by Hermione's sigh.

"Against," she admitted, looking a little put out by Malfoy's good deed. "His testimony shattered Lucius' defence of _Imperio_. He's why they were able to convict. Still, even if he isn't evil I still think he's a git."

"True enough," Harry agreed, smiling faintly at Hermione's disgruntled pout. "Do you think he -"

He cut himself off when there was a tapping at the window. They both looked over, startled, but went still at the sight of a small brown owl at the window. Dread started welling in Harry's chest when Hermione's breath hitched, and he waited for her to speak.

"That's Neville's owl," she muttered after a moment, shooting Harry a vaguely apologetic look. Harry nodded stiffly; Neville's owl. Neville, who was searching for Remus. Hermione started over to the window, babbling a little like she always did when she was nervous or flustered. "I'm sure it's nothing. I mean, maybe he just wanted to check in, or see if you were okay. I haven't spoken to him since you woke up, he might just be asking after you. It might not be - it might not be about..."

"Remus," Harry finished for her, feeling a strange coldness sinking into his bones. She nodded minutely.

"It might not be," she repeated softly, looking down at the letter she now had in her hands. The owl was sitting on Kurt's windowsill quietly cleaning its feathers, oblivious to the thick tension in the room, the silence as Hermione ripped the envelope open and pulled out the parchment letter. The witch read it quickly, and Harry ground his teeth together as she went pale.

"What does it say?" he asked softly, gripping his knees hard. When she didn't say anything he repeated himself, his voice harder. "Hermione, what does it say?"

She held it out to him wordlessly, and he dragged himself to her with heavy limbs. His heart was thudding in his chest, wondering _where is he, is he even alive, what did he do what do I do -_

The first lines were almost a relief, in an odd sort of way;

_Hermione - we found him. He's in a Wizarding Asylum in North Carolina. No idea how he got there and no-one knows who he is, so Harry's cover is safe. We're getting him back to England tonight._

It was the last line that sent Harry careening down the corridor to the bathroom, throwing up everything he'd eaten that day. The first word was smeared with ink, as though Neville had tapped the quill there, contemplating whether or not to say,

_We think he may have killed someone._


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: This chapter just would. Not. END. I'm so sorry, I started this the day after I posted the last chapter but between assignments (so many assignments, so very many assignments) and getting sick (so very sick, I thought I was going to cough up a lung) I just couldn't get it posted. But, here it is. Over 8,000 words and 18 pages of faffing about. Seriously, nothing really happens, but there are some funny bits? I need to learn how to do time lapses without it looking as awkward as fuck. Also Harry cries a lot, but that's more realistic than anything. The next chapter will be faster, I promise! Well, actually, it's coming up to the end of semester and I have four assignments due and two exams in the next two weeks, but after that… I have another two exams but after THAT I'm free for a few weeks! And the next chapter is already started because it ran on into this one and I had to cut it down.

Thank you, as always, to everyone who reviews. It just makes my day. Please don't spoil me for episodes 3x20 or 3x21, I have remained unspoiled thus far and really don't want to get spoiled now. Thanks! Enjoy.

* * *

"It's my fault."

"Harry-"

"It's _my fault_, Hermione, he's killed someone and I could have - fuck, it's my fault."

"Harry, sweetheart, it's not. Please sit down, we should talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about, Hermione!" Harry's voice was hoarse from the stomach acid still burning his throat, and from repeating those frantic words over and over again. Hermione stood in front of him in the Hummel's upstairs hallway, watching him with damp, frightened eyes as he paced around the confined space, pulling at his hair and clothes and shaking so hard he could barely speak. Ron had snuck up the stairs behind her and was hovering on the top step like he wasn't sure if he should leave Hermione to take care of it or not. Harry barely saw him. "He _killed _someone, Hermione, and if I hadn't freaked out and had just followed him and stopped him like I should have it wouldn't have happened, someone is dead because I was pathetic and couldn't handle it and it's my fault, my fault, it's all my _fault-_"

Hermione's arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning him in place. He struggled for a moment, trying to go back to tugging at his hair, but she didn't let up, "Harry, _stop_. First of all, we don't even know if he _did_ kill someone. Neville said that they _think_, for all we know their only proof is that Remus is saying he did and he hallucinated the whole thing - and that's a real possibility. I've been listening for any news, I haven't heard anything about a werewolf killing someone recently. Secondly, even if he has killed someone it is _not _your fault. For Merlin's sake, you weren't even conscious for most of the time he was missing, what could you do? And don't try to say you should have been conscious for it, that's just stupid and you know it. Calm down, Harry, please."

"It's my fault," Harry could hear himself moan, but it sounded far away. All he was really aware of was this crushing guilt overwhelming him, making him want to tear out his hair and scratch up his skin and hurt himself until he'd bled like he deserved. He could vaguely hear Hermione's distraught voice murmuring, "Oh, sweetheart..." but all he could do was slump into her arms and weep. "It's my fault. I should have stopped him. I should have helped him."

"You did everything you could," Hermione murmured into his hair. Harry couldn't really hear her over his own self-recriminations, but he soaked up the comfort none-the-less. Her arms were warm and her words, though muffled, were soothing; he clung to that feeling to keep away the panic biting at his heels.

He let himself be guided back into Kurt's room, automatically curling up on the bed when they reached it. He buried his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp and rocking a little - anything to ease the overwhelming sting of guilt that was rocking through him. He could faintly hear Hermione talking, handing Ron the letter that had started it all, but he didn't really register it. He was being consumed by _my fault, my fault, my __**fault **__-_

There was a slight dip in the bed next to him, and Hermione's soft, familiar hand stroked across his hair.

"He isn't your responsibility, Harry," she murmured as he wept. "For Merlin's sake, _you _were _his_. Whatever he's done, he's done alone. Please, please don't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault."

"Please leave me alone," Harry choked out, his friend's empathy and comfort almost burning him in his guilt. The witch hesitated and Harry went on, nearly incomprehensible through his tears. "Please, I just - I need to process. I need to be alone."

"Harry, if I leave you alone, you won't do anything... stupid, will you?" she asked hesitantly, resting her hand on the back on Harry's neck and squeezing a little. Harry shook his head.

"No, I - Kurt, I promised Kurt I wouldn't hurt myself or anything. I won't," he shuddered a little, panic and grief making him curl up tighter. "Please, just... I want to be alone."

"I'll be right downstairs if you need me," Hermione agreed reluctantly, and the weight next to Harry disappeared. He could vaguely hear her pad her way out of the room as his sobs picked up again, and then he was alone. He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and buried his face into it, ready to sob out his heartbreak and wallow in his guilt, but a faint scent caught his attention. It must have been the pillow Kurt usually slept on, though Harry didn't know why he hadn't taken it downstairs where he'd been sleeping; even though it had been sitting in a pile in the corner for countless days, it still smelt vaguely of Kurt's shampoo. Grief still rose in Harry like a wave, but the vicious guilt, the overpowering sense that _this was my fault, I could have stopped this_, the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm him began to... ease. It felt like Kurt was there with him, in a way. Kurt, who said over and over that Harry was worth the effort. Kurt, who kept his secrets and never demanded more than Harry could give. Kurt, who believed in Harry and accepted Harry despite everything... even faster than Ron and Hermione had. Kurt, who said he loved Harry without reservation. _He'd be horrified, if he were here, knowing I was thinking like this. I can't – I have to try – I have got to try to let go of this, but I don't know if I can…_

Harry still cried. He wept his grief into the pillow clutched in his hands for the father he'd almost had and the great man the world had lost - it really seemed like Remus was just gone, now - but he let his guilt and shame bleed out with his tears. For Kurt's sake.

* * *

By the time he'd cried all he could cry it was around lunchtime. He stopped in the bathroom before going downstairs to splash water on his face, sighing a little when he saw how pale he was and how red his eyes were - _I actually looked better this morning, isn't this just lovely _- before slowly making his way down the stairs. Hermione and Ron's voices were drifting from the kitchen, and as he snuck forward he could hear what they were saying.

"No, _Ronald_, we're not going to put crisps on our sandwiches. We're having ham and cheese or chicken or something vaguely healthy like that, because we're not 12. Can you at least pretend to be an adult?"

"Aww, come on, 'Mione. Finn showed me how to make Pringle-and-Nutella sandwiches the other day, they're brilliant! And Burt said we could use anything in the fridge or cupboard."

"I don't care, it's disgusting! Look, they mayonnaise, don't you like chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches?"

"Only when my mum makes them, she uses home-made mayonnaise."

"She does make good mayonnaise. I really must get the recipe."

"I'll butter her up for you. _If _you let me make my sandwich, that is."

There was a deep sigh, followed by a put upon, "Fine. But you are not making one for Harry too. He needs nutrition, not... whatever that is."

"You're such a buzzkill, Hermione."

Harry stifled his laughter in his hands as he watched them for a moment through the kitchen doorway. They were pottering around one another like an old married couple, bickering and shooting one another warm, amused smiles when the other wasn't looking. If he didn't know them so well he'd have thought they were in love, but he knew better. They were just family. His family.

"What if I want a crisp and Nutella sandwich?" he quipped from the doorway, leaning against it and looking at them with bashful eyes. Ron and Hermione looked over at him at the same time, their smiles warm and inviting when they saw the contentment on his face. Hermione carefully arranged her expression to mild disapproval at his words, but the happy glint in her eyes gave her away.

"If you want to eat that monstrosity be my guest," the witch sniffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "But I will force feed you salad afterwards. That thing has about as much nutritional value as lard on toast."

"I think I might stick with ham, then," Harry grinned as Ron defiantly added another layer of the thick chocolaty spread on top of his crisps. As the smaller boy made his way over to the fridge he stopped to pull Hermione into a brief hug, accepting the kiss on the head gratefully. He whispered to her as he pulled back, looking up into her eyes with a smile. "Thank you for giving me space and letting me cry. I really needed it, I think."

"Whatever you need, sweetness," she whispered back with a grin, her smile fading into a look of dismay at something over Harry's shoulder. "Ronald, you are not putting sprinkles on that thing too, surely?"

"Sprinkles improve everything," was Ron's arch reply, and Hermione scurried over to try and wrestle the little shaker out of his hands. Harry just laughed a little and went to the fridge, determinedly not thinking about Remus or guilt or anything. He'd cried enough; now he was just going to enjoy his afternoon with his family.

When they'd finally made their sandwiches they sat on the couch to eat them, Ron cheerfully turning on the TV to a music station with the usual assortment of barely clothed women. Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him, turning instead to face Harry.

"We may have to replace all the food Ron added to that sandwich," the witch sighed, rolling her eyes in disgust as Ron took a pointedly large bite behind Harry. Harry nodded seriously.

"Don't worry, I will. I already plan to pay them back for all the money they've spent on me in the last week."

"We already offered, mate, they said no way," Ron mumbled around his mouthful, nudging Harry with his elbow as Hermione nodded.

"It's true. We said we'd pay for whatever you'd needed and used but Mr Hummel said he wouldn't accept a cent," Hermione balanced her plate on her knee in order to pat Harry on the knee as he shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart, you weren't exactly eating much. We'll just replace all of that chocolate stuff Ron's used today and a few more tubes of Pringles - "

"And another packet of sprinkles," Ron added, mouth still full of chocolate. "And some crackers."

"You're disgusting," Hermione informed him seriously, her nose wrinkling a little as she looked away. "_Disgusting_, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Harry, how's your sandwich?"

"It's fine," he smiled at her as he took a little bite, making sure he'd swallowed before he spoke again. "I don't have much of an appetite, but it's fine."

"Well, eat up. You're much too thin," Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron suddenly perked up and looked around frantically before relaxing just as suddenly. "Something the matter, Ron?"

"Oh, nothing. I just could have sworn I heard my mum for a second there," he smiled sweetly at Hermione's annoyed huff, and Harry sunk down in between them with a snicker. "I guess I must have been imagining things, right Harry? No one in here sounds like my mum."

"Don't drag me into this, I'm just eating my lunch."

Eventually they managed to finish their meals, in between jokes and playful arguments, and Harry urged them both to sit as he cleared up their plates. Their well-practiced bickering created a soothing soundtrack as he pottered around the kitchen, slipping the plates into the dishwasher and wiping down the benches. It was comfortingly domestic. It reminded him of that day he'd spent with Kurt the week before -_ or is it two weeks? God I'm confused_- not thinking, not worrying, just being together.

_But there's plenty to worry about, _Harry conceded as he leant against a bench, sighing and pinching his nose to ward off the headache creeping at his skull. _Hermione needs to go home as soon as possible, and I still don't know where I'm going to live, and Remus..._

Harry blinked back tears with a scowl, gripping the edge of the bench in one hand as the bad feelings he'd been holding back welled in his chest. _No. No more crying. I can't keep falling apart, I just need to stop falling apart like this._

"Doin' all right, mate?"

Ron's soft voice broke Harry out of his thoughts, and the smaller wizard turned to look at his friend. Ron was hovering in the doorway, staring down at Harry with sad eyes and a weirdly solemn look on his freckled face. Harry smiled weakly, trying to hide the tremor in his hands by folding his arms resolutely over his chest.

"'mfine," Harry muttered, forcing out a little laugh as he turned back to look out the kitchen window. "I'm just - I'm really sick of crying all the time."

"Yeah," Ron agreed easily, coming up behind Harry to drop a hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything more, just standing with Harry as the other boy got his composure. Harry took a few deep breaths, looking up until his eyes dried, and shook his head.

"Do you think he's really done it?" he asked softly, not looking up at Ron. "Do you think he really killed someone?"

"Honestly?" Ron let out a long sigh, his voice as earnest and matter-of-fact as Harry had known it would be. "I think it's probably equally likely that he didn't. We really have no way of knowing. I mean, could he have? Yeah, obviously. Crazy werewolf roaming free, that's a disaster waiting to happen. But he could just as easily have imagined it."

"If he has-" Harry began. Ron cut him off, squeezing his shoulder firmly.

"If he has then it is nobodies' fault but his."

"If he has," Harry began again, twisting under Ron's arm to look up at his friend's face. "I need you to help me do something."

Ron nodded easily, not hesitating for a second. Harry took a deep breath, "If whoever it was - if they have a family... I want to help them. I know I can't meet them or anything, but... Merlin, Ron, what if it was a father? Or a mother? I have to do something."

"I'll help you track them down," Ron agreed easily, looking back out the window. "And help you do whatever. You know I'll help, mate. But you don't need to do that. It's not your responsibility-"

"I know," Harry interrupted, looking down his folded arms. "I know but - I'll feel better if I do."

"All right," Ron clapped Harry on the back enthusiastically. "No worries. That shouldn't be hard. Hey, did Hermione tell you that she has to leave?"

"Yeah, I meant to talk to her about that, actually," Harry looked over his shoulder at the doorway to the living room. He could faintly hear the TV changing channels and Hermione's disgusted mutterings on what she was seeing. "I was thinking maybe she could leave tomorrow, that will give her all the time she needs, right? We'll be fine here."

"Sure," Ron shrugged, gesturing Harry towards the door and beginning to wander out. "I can stay another week at least, so we're not bailing on you at once."

"Just go whenever you need to," Harry protested, smiling a little when he got to the door as saw Hermione glued to the History Channel. "You don't need to put yourself out for me anymore than you already have."

"It's fine, mate. I have about a fortnight before I get my exam results anyway," Ron looked a little ill at the thought of getting his results, and Harry gave him a pat on the back.

"You were studying like mad, I'm sure you did fine. Right, Hermione?"

"If he doesn't, the thing was rigged," Hermione agreed distractedly, squinting at the ruins on screen. "He spent more time worrying and studying for those exams than I did for my OWLs."

"Hermione, no one has ever, or will ever, study more for anything than you did for your OWLs," Ron rolled his eyes, but even as Harry stifled a snicker into his hand Hermione was shaking her head.

"He wrote terms and definitions he needed to remember on his ceiling so he'd absorb them while he was trying to sleep," the witch informed Harry, holding Ron's arm back as he tried to cover her mouth with his hand. "And he charmed the tiles in the shower to act like flash cards. To be honest, I wish I'd been that clever about studying when I was at school. It was kind of ingenious."

"Kind of mental, more like," Harry mumbled, laughing at Ron's indignant, 'Oi!' and catching Hermione's arm. "I actually wanted to talk to you about when you want to leave."

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip, "...are you sure you're still okay with me going? I mean, with this news about Remus..."

"I'm sure," Harry said firmly, his mouth pinching a little at the reminder. "You've worked too hard to lose now. Ron's sticking around, and I've got everyone here. It'll be fine. You could leave tomorrow if you wanted to."

"I want to see Puck before I go," Hermione admitted, smiling a little. "Do you think he'll want to see me-?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed immediately, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Hermione, I don't know what you did to that boy - and I don't want to know, by the way - but he's completely infatuated with you. Every time we talk he's all, 'Yeah, but seriously, dude, has she mentioned me at all? Even a little?'"

"Oh, be nice," Hermione huffed at Harry's fairly accurate imitation. "It's kind of sweet. I just wish he'd told me how he felt; I hadn't even considered it as anything more than physical. I didn't realize... he never said anything like that in his text messages or on the phone."

"He just pined away for you from afar. Hermione, you heartbreaker," Ron shook his head with faux-disappointment. "Leading that poor boy on like that, using him for sex..."

"I thought that's all he wanted! Leave me alone," the witch protested, grabbing a pillow off the couch to smack Ron across the face with. "Anyway, how about I leave on Sunday? That gives me today and tomorrow to see Puck and do anything else you need me to do."

"Whatever works best for you," Harry agreed with a nod, nodding at the laptop she'd left on the coffee table. "You'll just need to book your flights."

"I hope I can find some discounted tickets..." Hermione mumbled as she reached for the computer, not noticing Harry freezing up behind her. "Though at this late stage it's unlikely..."

"You don't need to get discounted tickets because I'm paying for it, right?" Harry looked between Ron and Hermione suspiciously, frowning. "You've been using the money from my account to visit me, right?"

Ron and Hermione shared a sheepish look and Harry threw up his hands, "You're both impossible! You've been using your own money for this? Why?"

"Mate, come on, we don't want to rely on you for everything. That's your family's money," Ron protested. Harry shook his head.

"You're right, it _is _my family's money. And you guys _are _my family, so it's _your _money too."

"Harry..." Hermione trailed off as Harry took the laptop from her hands, determinedly tapping _flights to London_into Google with two fingers.

"I know I can't convince you guys to accept too much from me, and that's fine, but if you're coming to visit me at least use my money and fly first-class. For my sake - if I'm going to be dragging you out to the arse-end of Nowhere I want you to be comfortable at least."

"All right, fair enough," Hermione agreed reluctantly, taking the laptop off of Harry. "I'll fly first-class, all the add-ons. Will that make you happy?"

"Thank you," Harry relaxed back against the couch. At Ron's amused look Harry stuck out his tongue. "Oh shut up, I don't get bossy about much but if you two are going to be stupidly sacrificing, I'm going to step in."

"Because you're never stupidly self-sacrificing," Ron snorted. Harry just flipped him the bird.

Hermione began tapping away at the laptop and Ron surreptitiously turned the TV back on, and Harry sighed a little and sunk back in between them. His bones felt like lead; this day had been dragging on forever. Thinking about Remus, the not-knowing what was going to happen, what had happened, what would happen to Remus or Harry or _what was going on_... Harry's throat felt uncomfortably tight, and he dug his nails into his legs. Ron and Hermione were bickering again, this time over the TV channel, but even the familiar sound of their voices couldn't pull him out of his head. His distraction was gone and it seemed that right now distractions were his only hope of getting through the day. He pulled his knees up under his chin, burying his face against them and wrapping his arms around his legs. He heard the conversation around him falter, but he shook his head a little and whispered, "I'm fine. Just... keep talking."

"All right," Hermione agreed after a moment's hesitation, placing a hand faux-casually on Harry's back. "As I was saying... this music is terrible, Ron, why would you want to watch the videos?"

"Hey, if I thought I could get away with turning the sound off and just watching the dancers I would," Ron joked back, and the argument resumed. Harry tried to focus on it, tried to quiet the little voices in his head that never really went away - _it's all my fault, I should have helped him_- but all he could really do was sit and wait for the worst of the feeling to pass.

Harry kept sitting like that, with Hermione's arm loosely around his back, until Burt came home about half an hour later. Harry could vaguely hear the man pause in the doorway before making his way cautiously inside. Harry tried to force himself to look up at him, but the anxiousness twisting at his insides almost choked him as soon as he did. He buried his face back into his arms on his knees and just listened.

"So how's the morning been, then?" Burt's voice was just a little dry, a little droll, and Hermione sighed.

"Well..."

"Is there anything I can do?" Burt asked when she trailed off, and Harry felt Hermione shift next to him.

"He was doing pretty well until... well, we got word from the people looking for... Remus."

"Oh," Burt was quiet for a moment, and Harry could almost feel the curiosity and rage dripping from his words. "And?"

"He's been placed in a psychiatric ward a few states away," Hermione answered slowly, and she began to rub soothing circles over Harry's back as a shudder ran through him. "They're not sure how he got there. And there's some concern that he may have..."

She hesitated again, and a flicker of grief rose in Harry's chest again, briefly overriding the fear clouding his eyes. He raised his head just enough to whisper out the rest of the story, "They said he might have killed someone."

"Jesus Christ," Burt swore under his breath as Hermione's hand stilled on Harry's back. There were thumping footsteps around the couch until Harry heard Burt collapse onto the matching chair nearby. "Jesus Christ. Are you - how do they know?"

"We have no details yet, it might be a hallucination he's having," Hermione rushed to clarify, tightening her arm around Harry when he started shivering. "But obviously it's rather upset Harry..."

"Slight understatement there, 'Mione," Ron muttered at Harry's bitter snort. Harry shook his head, still looking at his arms.

"I'm all right on and off," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his eye under his glasses with clumsy fingers. "I was upset and then I was fine and then I just got scared for no reason..."

"We've discussed this, mate, you're allowed to be all over the place right now," Ron nudged Harry's foot with one big hand, smiling his usually lopsided smile at Harry's annoyed huff. Harry could feel Hermione practically vibrating, and even though he didn't look up he knew she would be nodding her head frantically.

"He's right, and I know you're sick of hearing this, sweetheart, and I know you must be unbearably frustrated, but just give it time."

"That's what I'm doing," Harry grumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "And I plan to continue to sit here, like this, giving myself time, until I stop wanting to hide under the coffee table."

"Right, you do that," Hermione patted his back again and shifted, presumably so she could talk to Burt. "Did you want the TV, Burt? We're not really watching it, and one of us can easily move."

"I was gonna have a shower, actually," Burt mumbled around a yawn, and Harry heard him drag himself to his feet. "We had a big shipment of parts 'nd crap come in today, had to unload the truck, so I'm covered in sweat as well as oil. Harry, no telling Kurt I did that kinda heavy lifting, yeah?"

Harry raised one of his hands from where they were still clasped around his knees to give Burt an affirmative high-five, and the man chuckled.

"'atta boy."

Ron and Hermione settled back as Burt's footsteps faded up the stairs, and Harry tightened his grip on his legs.

"You should send him one of those word messages," Ron whispered over his head. Harry could almost hear Hermione's eye-roll as she shifted.

"It's called a text message, Ron, and who should I be texting?"

"Puck, you dunce. Come on, you should see if you can see him tonight."

"What makes you think I even want to, Ronald?"

"The fact that you keep looking at your little phone, Hermione. Admit it, you like him."

"He's good in bed. And nice enough, I guess."

"I'm not a complete idiot, Hermione-"

"Really? When did that change?"

"Oi! Be nice. And even I've noticed that ever since he called you about Harry you blush whenever he comes up."

"Well, if you've noticed-"

"Hermione. Seriously. Text message him. Don't you think she should, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip to keep his snicker at bay as his friends' bantering began to sooth his frazzled nerves again. He worked up the courage to look up from his knees and smiled at Hermione as strongly as he could, "You should, 'Mione. He's been asking after you."

"You think I should?" Hermione bit her lip and looked over to her phone on the coffee table. Harry shifted uncomfortably when the witch rose slowly to grab it, not liking how exposed he suddenly felt, but he relaxed marginally when she sat back down. He curled up against her side automatically, and she slid one arm around him while she unlocked her phone with her other hand. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask if he wants to do dinner or something..."

"How come you listened to Harry's suggestion and not mine?" Ron protested, sliding over so he was right next to Harry and could see the screen of Hermione's phone. Hermione snorted as her thumb danced across the screen.

"I don't know, Ronald, maybe because he's actually managed to date someone at some point in his life? Which is more than you can say?"

"Ouch, Hermione," Ron pouted and Harry couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up in his chest. It burst out from him a little hysterically, and when his friends turned to look at him he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I just - I love you guys so much," Harry smiled against his arms, looking up at Ron and Hermione through his eyelashes. They both smiled back, Hermione looking a little sheepish as she went back to her phone as it buzzed.

"We love you too, you know," Ron nudged Harry again, this time with his arm. He nodded towards Hermione as Harry relaxed against his side. "Even Hermione, who's too busy sending sexy messages and setting up a snog to answer."

"Harry, I love you too. You know I love you too. Ron, shut up. And, 'Hi Puck, this is Hermione. Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?' is not a sexy message," Hermione grumbled, squinting at her screen. "Merlin, I wish he wouldn't use this texting language, it takes me forever to work out what he means."

"Let me see?" Harry suggested, holding out a hand. "Kurt uses proper English when he texts, but few of my other friends do. I'm pretty good at interpreting it now."

Hermione handed over the phone and smiled at Harry's relaxing posture, "You're feeling a little better, love?"

"I'm fine as long as I'm distracted," Harry muttered, slowly reading through Puck's text._ Snds gd... Good grief, does he know what a vowel is? _"It's when I'm not occupied that I start getting... yeah. Crazy and scared and such. I think it says, 'Hey, sounds good. Want me to pick you up from Harry's house at 7?'"

"Thank you, that's what I thought it said," Hermione took the phone back with a gentle sigh, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Harry's forehead before beginning to text Puck back. "It's not surprising that you're a little fragile, Harry. You're doing _so_well as it is, but it's going to take time and work before that stops happening."

"I know, I know I know I know, I'm just sick of it already," Harry buried his face back into his arms, blinking back tears once again. "I want to feel okay again."

"You will," Ron's big arm snaked around Harry's shoulder and pulled him tightly against his side. "I mean, I thought I'd never be able to see water fountains again without crying after last year, but now I can."

"Yeah, you never did explain that particular reaction," Harry looked up again with exasperation. Ron's short-lived fountain phobia had been a source of great curiosity for both Hermione and Harry for six months; neither of them could remember so much as seeing a fountain during any of the battles they'd fought in. Ron was shaking his head.

"And I never will, mate. I never bloody will."

A door slamming upstairs make all three magical teens jump, and Harry ducked his head against Ron's side as footsteps approached and fear began to suffocate him.

"It's all right, sweetness, it's just Burt coming downstairs," Hermione soothed him, trailing a hand down Harry's back. Harry shuddered against Ron's side and nodded.

"I know, just - give me a minute," he mumbled into Ron's side, and he couldn't help but tense when the footsteps entered the room.

"How's it goin', kids?" Burt's rough voice seemed loud after the quiet conversations the three teens had been having. Ron was the one who answered him, his voice easily casual as if he didn't have Harry cowering against his side.

"Eh, not bad. Hermione managed to get herself a date."

Harry heard the thump of Hermione punching Ron's arm next to him, and couldn't help but smile a little at the sheepishness in her voice, "Just with Puck, _Ronald_, whom I was already dating. It's not like I was wooing men at the window or something."

"That's nice. Where's he takin' you?" Burt walked over to his armchair again, dropping into it with a relieved sigh. Hermione looked back at her phone with a little frown.

"A place named... Le Beau? French, I guess."

"Le Beau, geez, that's the fanciest place in town," Burt raised his eyebrows, nodding to Harry. "That's where little rich boy over there took Kurt for their one-month anniversary."

"One-month-aversary," Harry corrected automatically, nearly in unison with Hermione. He rolled his eyes as Hermione blushed, lifting his head from Ron's chest to explain to Burt. "Hermione's always been super pedantic about this; an 'anniversary' is by definition a year, because it's _ann_ual. If it's less than that, it's not 'ann', it's just a, 'iversary'. Or so Hermione insisted when we were twelve. But you're right about Le Beau - it's really expensive for Lima. I told you Puck was really into you."

"I didn't know!" Hermione protested, looking down at her phone with dismay. "If I'd known I would have paid him more attention..."

"You'd better dress up real nice for that place," Burt rolled his eyes, reaching for a magazine on the side table next to him. "They won't let anyone in anyone in blue jeans in - trust me."

There was a long pause, before Hermione spoke again, eyes wide, "But I didn't bring anything nice... I was in such a rush, I just threw in a few pairs of jeans and a bunch of jumpers. I don't even know if I have any other shoes than my sneakers. What am I meant to-?"

"Hermione. Go shopping," Harry sat up, ignoring the little thrill of fear that went through him when he was no longer tucked against Ron. At Hermione's grimace Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know you hate shopping as much as I used to, but it's really not so bad."

"Yes it is," Hermione grumbled, looking down at her simple tank top and cardigan sadly. "It means I have to look at all these clothes that they don't make for girls of human proportions and shoes that I couldn't walk in if my life depended on it... Why can't I just wear a pair of your black pants or something?"

"Because your legs are longer than mine, and you want to look nice for Puck anyway," Harry shared a brief amused look with Burt and Ron at Hermione's put upon pout, and shook his head. "Didn't you get on my case for making an effort with Kurt? Look, there's a small department store not so far away. It's not classy, but it'll do in a pinch. Take my credit card and text Kurt, ask him what he thinks you should wear and just find something that matches his ideas."

"You're being irritatingly logical," Hermione huffed, glaring at the snickering Ron over Harry's head. Harry smiled and rose up a little to press a smacking kiss to her cheek.

"That's because someone has to be the level-headed one, and when it comes to this sort of thing you can't seem to do that anymore," Harry grinned sweetly at her, pointing to her phone. "Do it. Text him. Then go and shop. It'll take half an hour and you'll have plenty of time to dissect another computer or learn a new language or do whatever you want to do."

"Oh, fine," Hermione sank down against the couch, tapping at her phone again with a pout. "I should make an effort for Puck, since he's taking me out somewhere so nice. But if Kurt tries to put me in something with ruffles..."

"I'm sure he knows you well enough to avoid ruffles," Harry assured her, crossing his fingers where Hermione couldn't see; when it came to what was fashionable, Kurt did have a kind of tunnel vision. The look Burt was giving him indicated that he know about that particular trait of Kurt's too.

"You feeling better, kiddo?" Burt asked quietly as Hermione scowled at her phone. Harry shrugged, digging his nails into his thighs to try and keep the ever-present panic down.

"I'm fine as long as I'm distracted," Harry looked at the still closed living room curtains with a faint frown, flinching slightly as faint, far-off movement behind it registered. "When I'm not distracted I'm still - you know. Insane."

"Anxious," Hermione corrected firmly, elbowing Harry hard in the side without looking up from her phone. "And your anxiety makes you liable to panic. You are not insane, Harry James Potter, and if you insist on saying you are I will beat you with a pillow until you capitulate. Understood?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry agreed quickly, holding onto the spot she'd elbowed gingerly. She glanced over with a worried frown.

"I didn't hit a bruise, did I?" she murmured, and Harry shook his head.

"Nope, missed them. It's fine."

"If you want a distraction I could always grab your homework from Kurt's room, kid," Burt interjected, moving to get out of his chair. Harry nodded thoughtfully, forcing a grateful smile.

"That would actually be really great, considering Ron and Hermione will have to go in a little while."

When Ron shot him a confused look Harry rolled his eyes, "Hermione needs to go shopping and she drove you here. You know she's going to be too frazzled to pick you up later."

"Oh yeah," Ron frowned a little, looking at little put out as Hermione stared worriedly at her phone. "Yeah, that's a good point. Hermione?"

Hermione tapped at her phone frantically, huffing in frustration as her fingers fumbled on the screen. Ron rolled his eyes and Harry leaned back, out of the line of fire. Ron cupped a hand around his mouth and began to call, "Oi! Granger!"

"What, Ronald?" Hermione snarled back, glaring at him over her phone. Harry could see Burt chuckling at them from across the room and rolled his eyes with a grin. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that Ron and Hermione could argue over something they agree on.

"How long are you going to need to get ready for your love-in?" Hermione pursed her lips at Ron's somewhat dry tone, and looked thoughtful.

"Well, I'll need at least an hour to shop - Kurt's list of what I should wear was rather specific - and I need to shower, and wrestle with my hair, and - oh, I'll need make up, too..."

"You're dropping me off at the house before you go on this shopping trip," Ron informed her flatly, and Harry couldn't keep in his laugh. Burt was still chuckling as he wandered back out of the room, muttering about, "Just gonna grab that stuff, be back..."

"So you're going to need a lot of time, in other words," Harry spoke up, slowly sliding his legs down so his feet hit the floor. He focused on Hermione, trying hard to ignore the fear tingling down his legs, making him want to pull up his legs and curl up again. "What did Kurt suggest?"

Hermione raised her phone and tapped the screen, taking a deep breath before she began, "Let's see... 'a dress, knee length at least. Either blue or black, and something that shows off your arms, but wear a shawl to make it more modest. Stappy shoes, in a bright colour. Silver jewelry, maybe bangles.' There are over 10 messages. I have no idea how he types so fast."

"Nor do I," Harry smiled a little at Hermione's pout. "But now you know what you need to get, right?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed begrudgingly, shooting a nervous glance at the stairs before whispering. "I don't see why I can't just Transfigure something, though."

"Because the last time you tried to transfigure a nice dress for yourself it turned back into a shirt half-way through the evening," Ron whispered back, smirking at Hermione's glare. "And while no-one else minded the sudden strip-tease, you seemed to."

"I thought I told you never to bring that up again," Hermione grumbled. "Okay, so I've never managed to Transfigure anything more complicated than a shirt in the _past_, but I-"

"Hermione, just go shopping," Harry shook his head as Burt came back into the room, looking with some relief at the pile of books and papers in his arms_. That'll keep me busy for a while. Never thought I'd be glad to have homework._"Thank you for that, Burt."

"No worries, kiddo," Burt dumped the papers on the coffee table. "You two better get going, you sound like you got a big afternoon planned."

"Yes, you're right," Hermione jumped to her feet, shooting Harry an apologetic look when Harry flinched at the sudden movement. "Come on, Ron, we need to get our stuff together."

"But it's only, like, half past two in the afternoon, and he's not picking you up until seven. Surely you won't need five hours to get ready," Ron protested as Hermione dragged him to his feet, shooting Burt and Harry bemused looks as she suddenly darted up the stairs. "I thought we'd leave in an hour or two."

"No! That's not enough time!" Hermione shouted back down, and Harry nodded knowingly, thinking back to all the times Kurt had kept him waiting before their dates.

"It's true. With all the instructions Kurt's given her she'll need maybe two hours to shop, then showering, doing her hair, make up... Kurt spent three and a half hours just picking his clothes when I took him to Le Beau," Harry shook his head and reached for one of his textbooks on the coffee table, eager to begin distracting himself. He caught sight of Ron's gobsmacked look and shrugged, smiling wryly. "I don't get it either, mate, but I got used to it."

"Bloody mental," Ron rolled his eyes and shuffled towards the kitchen. "I guess I should make a few more phone calls before the weekend. Right, I'll go grab my stuff then. Burt, we used up a few of your things - the Nutella, the Pringles and your sprinkles - so I'll get you some more tomorrow, sorry about that."

"What Ron means is that HE used up all those things, because he's a pig," Hermione added archly as she flew down the stairs, a bag Harry hadn't noticed her carry up there safely in her arms. She hurried forward to squeeze Harry's shoulder with her free hand before snatching up her laptop from the coffee table. "Sorry to run out on you like this, sweetheart."

"No, it's good. Go have fun," Harry placed his hand on top of hers and smiled up at her. "Just - if you hear any more from Neville and Luna..."

"You'll be the first to know," Hermione promised, bending down over the back of the couch to kiss Harry's cheek. She started bellowing while she straightened, not noticing how Harry had to cover his ears. "Ronald! Hurry up! Kurt's now saying that I need a specific shade of blue and I have no idea if I'm going to be able to find it!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ron grumbled as he came back into the room, the last two laptops that hadn't been packed away before lunch tucked under his arm. "Merlin's beard, woman, don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Don't be crude, Ronald," Hermione scolded him as they walked to the door, waving at Harry and Burt and Ron pausing to ruffle Harry's hair. "Good bye, you two. See you tomorrow, Harry."

"See you then. Have fun, Hermione!" Harry called after them, and Burt chuckled from his chair.

"Yeah, see you kids," Burt was shaking his head when Harry turned back around to face him. "Harry, I like your family, but they're a little bit crazy."

"It's true," Harry agree, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. With Ron and Hermione gone he felt painfully exposed and vulnerable. The tight ball of anxiety that they'd eased began to tighten in his chest again, and he tucked his legs back up under his chin without thinking about it. Burt went still, looking at him cautiously.

"Everythin' okay there, kiddo?" the man asked cautiously, fixing his ever-present cap on his head and leaning forward. Harry forced a smile and a shrug, trying hard to ignore the trembling that had started in his leg.

"It's just been a really long day," the teenager forced out a laugh, forcing back the jiggling in his leg. It started up again a moment later and he let out a frustrated breath. Burt nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I bet. What's getting you down?" Burt leaned back casually, reaching for the paper he'd left there this morning, letting Harry decide whether or not they spoke_. I could honestly not be fonder of this man.__  
_  
"It's just so hard," Harry admitted after a moment. "There's so much I should be doing, and I should be okay - I shouldn't feel like this, I should have to feel like this, and I feel guilty about feeling so scared and being so useless but it's also so unfair because it's - it's really not my fault that I'm so screwed up, and it's so unfair that I'm making you all deal with this because other people made me deal with it and I couldn't take it and I just kind of want to cry and scream but I'm so sick of looking like a mental person in front of people. I just want to curl up, on my own, and cry for about an hour but I shouldn't be so... I don't know. Self-indulgent? I don't know. I'm sorry."

Harry's shoulders slumped as he ran out of steam, and he looked at his knees broodingly, blinking back tears for the millionth time. There was a pause before Burt put down his paper and got to his feet and lumbered over to Harry's side. Harry looked up at him with bleary eyes, opening his mouth to apologise for his word vomit, but Burt raised a hand to stop him. The man reached forward and took Harry's glasses off his nose, placing them gently on the coffee table, before grabbing the pillow Kurt had left on of the shelf under the table for him to sleep on and placing it in Harry's arms. At Harry's confused, unfocused look, Burt patted his hair affectionately.

"Harry, no one in the world would begrudge you needing to cry right now. Feel absolutely free. Cry. Scream into that pillow until your voice goes. You don't want an audience, that's fine. I could use a nap, I'll just be upstairs if you need me. But let it all out, kiddo. That crap will eat you alive if you let it."

The first tear surprised Harry, slipping down his face and onto the pillow in a hot trail before he knew what was happening. Then he was burying his face into the soft fabric in his hands, letting the sobs and cries muffle themselves even as they rocked through him. He didn't hear Burt leave but he could sense that he was alone again, and the privacy was very welcome. He let himself scream his hurt into the pillow, sob with grief and guilt against it, and with every sound and tear the pain that constantly throbbed in his mind eased very slightly.

_Remus... how could he how could I why didn't I it's done, it's over and what can I do I don't want to I just want to sleep and everything to be okay and I don't know what I'm going to do, I'm so tired, I'm so over it, I just just just want..._


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** OKAY OKAY OKAY I SUCK, YES I DO, BUT LET ME EXPLAIN. At first I couldn't update because I had my first lot of university exams, which OKAYHOLYHELL I didn't expect to get so flustered by. I have discovered that sometimes drinking at 11 o'clock in the morning is perfectly reasonable, and during exams is pretty much the best time for it. FUCK EXAMS. Then came the next biggest reason I couldn't update: Glee Season Three finale. Allow me to carefully and eloquently describe my feelings for that episode.

Ahem.

(Moderate harsh language and incoherent ranting ahead)

FY)WP£IUUP)*NPFIUPISULYO"*PBC&P(NRP&UP(N!M_F*N_PMFIUPHFLHQPINJ: KFN:IDMA:OIWHLAIFJ:_**FUCK YOU VERY MUCH RYAN FUCKING MURPHY.**_

I have NEVER been angrier or more outraged by a television program, and I once watched a full episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. Just FUCK. BULLSHIT WANKING FUCK. I'm sorry, but hOUETHONOIDFUMPASODHFHo_**NO. **_Glee has spent the last three fucking years promoting the idea that it gets better, and what do we get instead? Sorry, kids! It doesn't matter if you do everything right, take the moral high ground, do your best to be a good person and support the people you love, LIFE WILL SHIT ON YOU FOREVER AND EVER AMEN. On the other hand, if you lie, cheat, backstab and are generally manipulative as fuck, everything will go according to plan and your dreams will come true! Happy life! I LIKE Rachel. Really, I do. But she did NOT deserve to get in instead of Kurt. I'm sorry, she just didn't. FUCK OFF AND DIE. I don't know if I will keep watching Glee after this, I really don't. I just can't. It has helped so many people and then to go and subvert its own message so hard _PUHR QBFLFIAHFBOW£ _

**TL;DR version:** The last episode of Glee pissed me off so much I stopped reading, watching, listening to or doing anything that reminded me of it. I forced myself to finish this chapter anyway, and will finish the story.

* * *

By the time Kurt and Finn had gotten home from Glee practice Harry had more or less calmed down. Kurt could obviously see the redness of his eyes and the tension he was carrying around his mouth but other than giving Harry a long hug he didn't mention it, and the wizard couldn't have been more grateful. He didn't want to think about Remus and murder and responsibility; he wanted to forget everything and just be a kid for a couple of hours. Without Harry even having to say anything, Kurt seemed to understand.

"How about we see if we can't get a pizza tonight?" Kurt had suggested as soon as Finn had collapsed in front of the TV, Harry still tucked neatly under his boyfriend's arm. "My dad's upstairs, right? His car is outside."

Harry nodded wordlessly, and Kurt squeezed his hand, "I'll go ask him. We can just have a quiet night in... watch a movie as a family, maybe have some ice-cream after dinner... how does that sound?"

"That sounds amazing," Harry sighed a little, smiling and sagging against Kurt's side. Finn perked up as well from where he was slumped on the couch, looking up at Kurt with hopeful eyes.

"Can we get proper ice-cream? Like, not the no-fat soy stuff, but Ben & Jerry's or something?" Finn shot Harry a pained look, shuddering a little. "He's been buying that fake stuff for Burt, it's gross."

"I tried it once, it wasn't that bad," Harry protested, allowing Kurt to shoo him across the room to the couch with Finn. Finn shuddered again.

"Ice-cream should be from dairy cows, dude. It's just not right when it's, like, soy cow milk or whatever."

"It's a bean, Finn. Soy is a kind of bean," Kurt sighed as he wandered upstairs, muttering to himself about healthy menu options for Burt and finding the take away menus. Harry smiled a little at Finn's confused expression and decided to distract the boy from the intricacies of soy production.

"How was school, Finn?" he asked softly, reaching over with a vaguely trembling hand to flick Finn's arm. "Did anything exciting happen?"

Finn's expression cleared and he shrugged, scratching his chin, "Yeah, kind of. You know how Quinn's being kind of weird... oh, maybe you don't know..."

"Kurt told me," Harry interrupted him, shaking his head a little. "I know that she broke up with Sam and quit the Cheerios. It's a shame."

"Yeah, and she's been, like, talking to me a lot. Rachel thinks she wants to date me again and she's getting all weird about it. Rachel's getting weird, I mean. Today she and Quinn got into an argument about, like, borrowing and stealing sweaters, but I don't think it was actually about sweaters. They kept calling the sweater 'him'."

"That's probably a safe interpretation," Harry agreed, forcing a smile down at the mental image of a bemused Finn sitting in between the two furious girls, trying to keep up with the subtext while not getting dragged into the argument. "What about everyone else?"

"Well, Santana is going ape-shit on everyone who talks about you," Finn grinned a little. "Says nobody is allowed to make fun of her 'favourite fairy choir-boy' but her. A couple of Cheerios were gossiping and she told Coach Sylvester that they ate brownies before practice. That was before lunch, but they're probably still running laps."

"I'm so glad I'm on Santana's good side," Harry shook his head. Finn nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, uh. Being on her bad side is a - it's a bad thing, yeah," the taller boy looked a little pale, and Harry's lips quirked into a smile.

"I'm assuming you've been in her bad books, then?" Harry bit his lip as Finn went even paler at the memory. "I won't ask."

"Thank you."

Kurt came back into the room a couple of minutes later, when Finn was half-way through a story of Artie's attempts to snag a new Cheerio girlfriend with gangster rap, dangling his car keys in between two fingers.

"Dad says we can order pizzas, but someone else has to go and get the ice cream. Finn," he began, his voice tight and strained. Both boys on the couch looked over at him, and Kurt sighed harshly. "I'm going to give you the keys to my baby."

"Whoa," Finn whispered reverently, and Harry raised his eyebrows up to his hairline. "You mean I get to -"

"You're going to _carefully _and _slowly _drive my Navigator to the store," Kurt interrupted, pinning his step-brother with a fierce look. "And buy several tubs of ice-cream. Enough for everyone, and in a few different flavours to cater for everyone. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Finn jumped to his feet and tried to grab at the keys. Kurt pulled them out of his reach and pointed his finger right up in his brother's face.

"And you will be careful?" he confirmed, his eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. Finn nodded frantically. "And you'll drive slowly and double check every turn-"

"Dude, I will respect your car like it was my own baby," Finn promised, clasping his hands in front of him like a prayer. "Seriously. I promise. There won't be a single scuff mark, and if there is you can burn all of my clothes and buy me a whole new wardrobe."

"Go," Kurt ordered Finn with a sigh, dropping his keys into his brother's waiting hands and pointing at the door. "Don't make me regret this."

Finn let out a cheer and rushed out the door, accidentally slamming into the doorframe in his haste. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned to face Harry where he was still sitting on the couch.

"I know I'm going to regret that," he informed the wizard mournfully, wincing when he heard a car door slam. "I just know it. But I don't trust dad not to go overboard if I give him permission to buy real ice-cream."

"And you think Finn won't?" Harry smiled as Kurt began rubbing his forehead, no doubt imagining the mountains of junk food he was going to have to hide from his father. Harry's voice got softer as he reached out a hand to his boyfriend, trying to ignore how his hands shook. "Thank you for staying with me, though, love."

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," Kurt caught Harry's hand and joined him on the couch, curling up at his side and pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek. "Hermione texted me while she was shopping, said you had a long day. If you want to talk about it, we can, but right now I want you to forget all about that... and make out with me for a while. Okay?"

"Oh, well, if I _have _to..." Harry rolled his eyes in jest, giving an exaggerated sigh as Kurt let out a mock offended noise and pushed him onto his back. Harry smiled against Kurt's mouth as his boyfriend pressed their lips together, kissing him lightly and letting the world fall away. It wasn't heated or exciting like some of their previous make out sessions had been; it was slow, gentle, soothing. Every gentle caress of Kurt's lips over his made the tight ball of anxiety in Harry's chest begin to loosen, and Kurt's warm body hovering over his made him feel so _safe_. He ran his hands through Kurt's styled hair carefully, making sure not to mess it up too badly, and he let out a soft, happy breath when Kurt's long-fingered hand clasped his hip in its strong grip.

It couldn't have been more than five minutes - five glorious, wonderful minutes - when the boys on the couch heard an awkward, amused cough from the stairs. Kurt leaned up automatically and raised a fluttering hand to his hair, patting down, and Harry craned his neck to see around the back of the sofa. Burt was making his way downstairs, a look of fake-disapproval not quite sitting right on his face.

"Oh I get it. This is why you wanted me to stay upstairs; so you could mack on your boytoy on my couch in the meanwhile," Burt quipped, reaching over the back of the couch to ruffle Harry's already messy hair, flicking his son on the nose as Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I suggested you stay upstairs and nap because you looked tired. You didn't do too much at work today, did you?" Kurt got to his feet, straightening his wrinkled clothes idly as he looked over his father with a critical eye. "Your doctor said only light duties for at least another two months-"

"'m fine, Kurt, don't worry about it," Burt grumbled, sharing a brief conspiratorial look with Harry. Harry could feel Kurt's suspicious gaze turn to him, and he carefully didn't meet his eyes.

"Harry," Kurt began slowly, his hands migrating to his hips with a stern glare forming on his face. "My dad didn't mention to you about any hard work he did today, did he?"

"...no?" Harry tried, and Burt gave a put-upon sigh as Kurt rounded on his father with a glare. "Sorry, Burt, I'm crap at lying to him."

"That's probably a good thing," Burt mumbled as he began to fidget under Kurt's stare. "It was just unloading a few boxes, kiddo, don't worry about it."

Kurt sighed and rubbed his temple, "The doctor said-"

"The doctor _said _that I could start easing myself back into more physical stuff soon," Burt raised his hands to ward off Kurt's arguments. "And yeah, maybe not that much, but I was careful, kiddo. I've been careful. I got no plans to leave you any time soon."

Harry bit his lip and Kurt glared for a few more moments before huffing, "You're eating a salad with your pizza tonight."

"Which one of us is the parent here? Jesus," Burt grumbled as Kurt sat down again, motioning for the two boys to make room for him. "You mind if I join you? Deadliest Catch is on."

"Sure," Harry agreed as he shuffled down the couch, still touched by the father-son moment he'd been allowed to see. He let out a surprised yelp when Kurt suddenly dragged him onto his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist, blushing a little when Burt snickered at him. He turned his head to whisper in his boyfriend's ear. "I'm going to wrinkle your clothes."

Kurt shrugged, "It's wool, it'll be fine. Cuddle with me."

"But your dad-"

"He doesn't mind. Do you, dad?"

"As long as you boys can keep your tongues out of one another's mouths, we're fine," Burt waved the remote at them in a sort of welcoming motion. "Now shut up so I can watch my show."

"Yes, dad."

"Yes, Burt."

Finn, predictably, came back almost an hour later with more ice-cream than Harry had ever seen outside of a supermarket. Burt and Kurt had stopped arguing over what movies the house was going to watch that night ("Kurt, buddy, I love you, but if I have to sit through RENT again I'm gonna scream." "Well I'm not watching one of those dumb baseball movies again until someone has the good sense to digitally alter their pants into something not hideous.") in order to stare as Finn staggered into the house, arms laden down with bags upon bags full of ice-cream cartons, his expression triumphant.

"Good Grilled Cheesus, Finn, how much did you spend?" Kurt asked as the four men tried to fit all the cartons in the fridge. Finn looked a little sheepish.

"There was a sale," he mumbled, looking down longingly at the tubs in his hand. "Buy two, get one free. But yeah. Kind of... a lot? Like, a lot. A lot of money. Um... hey, Harry? Can I borrow some mon-"

"Do not even think about it Finnegan Francis Hudson," Kurt smacked Finn across the back of the head as Burt gave a long-suffering sigh and Harry stifled a chuckle. "You are not hitting up my boyfriend for cash just because you have no impulse control."

"But he's got, like, heaps of it, and I need to by Rachel a present for the anniversary of the first time I said 'I love you' to her," Finn sounded increasingly frantic as he looked down in dismay at the ice-cream Burt was trying (and failing) to shove into the freezer. "I spent all of my allowance AND my shop earnings on this."

"I'll pay you back for some of it, Finn, since it's for everyone and not just you," Burt promised, shaking his head at Kurt snort and muttered, 'Oh please, he's going to eat most of it.' Harry patted Finn on the arm, trying not to flinch when the feeling of skin on skin made his flesh crawl. "But not for all of it. I'll give you maybe fifty bucks? After that you're on your own."

"I'd love to help you out, Finn, but I don't have any cash out at the moment," Harry added when Finn whimpered pathetically and pinned him with pleading eyes. "I haven't exactly been shopping recently. I don't even know where my wallet is."

"Oh yeah," Finn's shoulders slumped and he peered at Kurt hopefully. "Kurt-?"

"Not a chance in hell," Kurt snapped, putting the tubs in his hands on the bench with a thump. "I'm saving up for this gorgeous Marc Jacobs wool mohair pea coat I saw on eBay, your poor financial planning is not my fault. I'm going to get the cooler out of the garage, this is ridiculous."

"Good thinking, kiddo," Burt agreed, sitting down at the kitchen table and giving Finn a sympathetic look when the tall teenager slumped down next to him. "Possibly not such good thinking on your part, Finn."

"I know," the boy said mournfully, looking at his hands. "I was just so excited that I got to drive the Navigator and that we were getting proper ice cream and that I got to pick... Rachel's gonna kill me, ever since Harry took Kurt to Le Beau she's been hinting that she wanted to go there."

"Sorry, mate," Harry apologised with a sheepish smile. "Didn't mean to set the bar so high."

"It's gonna be even higher now," Burt added with a grin. At Finn's confused look he elaborated. "Puck's taking that Hermione girl to Le Beau tonight. I tell ya, when I was your age I never woulda even thought of taking a girl there."

"Puck's taking a girl there too?" Finn threw his hands up in the air. "That's it, I may as well just tell Rachel to dump me now. I'll call Quinn, maybe she'll take me back. Probably not, though, since I'm a deadbeat."

"You're not actually thinking of breaking up with Rachel for Quinn, are you?" Harry tilted his head to the side. "I mean, I like Quinn too but she did get pregnant with your best friend's kid. I don't know much about relationships but I'd think that would kinda be a deal breaker in terms of trust and stuff."

"Well yeah, she did," Finn admitted, scratching his ear and squinting at the wall thoughtfully. "And I'm not really thinking about breaking up with Rachel, I mean, I love her, but... Quinn's really cool too."

"Don't do it, buddy," Burt clapped Finn on the shoulder, getting up to help Kurt maneuver the cooler around the doorway and into the room. "Down that path lies madness. If you love Rachel and you're happy with her, don't go lookin' for happiness elsewhere too."

"Wait, what's going on? Finn's looking elsewhere?" Kurt thumped the cooler down onto the table, pinning Finn with a fierce look. "Finn, if you are thinking about cheating on Rachel then I'm sorry, but I will be obliged to kill you."

"I'm not going to cheat on Rachel, I'm just thinking about what I'll do when she dumps me for blowing all my anniversary savings on ice cream," Finn moaned and dropped his head to the table, letting it hit with a dull thud. Harry leaned over so Finn could hear him.

"Look, if this is in a little while I can get some cash out to cover one dinner. I'll ask Hermione to get some tomorrow," Harry raised a hand to silence Kurt's protests, smiling a little at his boyfriend's annoyed pout. "Ron and Hermione said that you guys had refused to let me pay for what I used when I was here, and Finn has been very patient with me taking over his house, so let me do this. Please. It'll make me feel less guilty about all this."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but Harry could see him caving in, "Fine. Teach him bad habits. See if I care. Just don't come running to me when he wants you to buy him ten copies of Shooter Guy City 6000 or whatever."

"Dude, I promise I will never ask you for anything ever again if you shout me this one thing. And I'll pay you back as soon as I can if you want, just help me out," Finn begged, looking about half a second away from falling to his knees. Harry shook his head.

"Finn, it's fine. I'll shout you however much you need, and you don't have to pay me back. Consider it my apology for taking over your house."

"You totally don't need to apologize for that but please give me the money anyway."

"It's yours," Harry laughed a little, but his laugh cut off when Finn suddenly cheered and jumped to his feet, wrapping his arms around Harry in a tight hug. Instinct took over for a moment and then Finn was on the ground and Harry was on the other side of the room, body tense and ready for a fight. It only took a moment for him to realise what had happened.

"Oh my God, did I hurt him?" Harry whispered into the shocked-silent room. Finn sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.

"No, it's cool. That was my fault anyway."

"Oh thank Jacobs," Kurt breathed out, rushing to help Finn to his feet. He and Burt had frozen in place when Harry had moved, and now it seemed as though they'd snapped out of their shock as they both helped heave Finn to his feet. As soon as the boy was upright Kurt was turning to Harry, his face lined with worry.

"He's all right, sweetie, don't worry about it. I've told him a dozen times not to touch you when you don't expect it, it's not your fault-"

"Finn, I'm so sorry," Harry interrupted, whispering. He felt like he was going to choke on the guilt when he saw Finn wince and touch the back of his head, and tears welled in his eyes as his throat went tight. Finn waved him off.

"You just shoved me dude, I'm okay. It wasn't even that hard, and 'snot like you actually did any damage. I don't think I even have a bump."

"I can't find one," Burt agreed, running his fingers lightly over the back of Finn's head. "I gotta be honest, I don't even think he woulda fallen if he hadn't tripped over his own feet. No offence, Finn."

"No, it's cool," Finn responded, but Harry was once again deafened by the rushing in his ears. He felt Kurt's warm arms fold around him as his brain went back into meltdown.

_Hurt him, hurt Finn, he's just a kid, he didn't deserve that, monster, you're a monster, you just hurt people people Kurt, don't hurt Kurt, what if I hurt Kurt? I can't do this, it's too much, it's too much scared, scared scared scared can't can't got to should die, I should die, don't hurt them, please don't let me hurt him..._

"Oh geez, is he having another one of those attack things? I'm so sorry, Kurt, I didn't mean to - "

"I know, Finn, could you just... clear out for a few minutes?"

"...but the ice-cream will melt."

"_Finn-_"

"Finn, Buddy, let's go into the living room. The ice-cream will survive."

"Right, right, uh. Sorry, Harry."

"He can't hear you, Finn, just go."

_Just Kurt, Kurt is holding me safe but no, no no no I hurt him, I hurt Finn why why why monster, I'm a monster murderer dangerous unsafe, i just want to feel safe again..._

"Harry, sweetheart, it's okay. Everything is fine. Finn is fine. Well, he's an idiot, but he was already an idiot. It's okay, you're safe. Deep breaths, Harry, come on."

Minutes dragged on as Harry fought to get back into control of his body, fought to keep down the rolling nausea and just focus on the warmth and safety of Kurt's arms...

"I really hate my body," Harry managed to gasp out dryly, shuddering against Kurt's side. Kurt chuckled and squeezed Harry's bicep, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"That's all right, I like your body enough for the both of us. Anyway," Kurt's cheeks flushed pink as Harry let out an unattractive snort at his little comment, hurrying to move on. "You're feeling better, then?"

"For the next ten minutes or so, I'm sure," Harry agreed wryly, pulling back from Kurt's side to rub at his face. "Then a butterfly will flutter past and I'll undoubtedly start sobbing again..."

"I promise to protect you from butterflies and moths and any other vicious insect monsters, okay?" Kurt pressed a short kiss to the side of Harry's head before backing away a little, moving towards the living room. "Do you want to try and fit some of this damn ice-cream into the cooler? I'll go and get dad and Finn."

"Sure thing," Harry shuffled towards the bench where the ice-cream had carelessly been dumped, rubbing the last of the tear tracks from his cheeks. He stuffed a few tubs of ice-cream into the cooler, stacking them together and forcing himself not to flinch when Burt and Finn followed Kurt back into the kitchen. He forced a short smile up at them before looking back down to the ice-cream, and he heard Finn clear his throat.

"Sorry for scaring you, dude. I just totally wasn't thinking," the taller boy shifted a little where he stood, and when Harry looked up Finn looked somewhat sheepish. The wizard shrugged and smiled back weakly.

"It's fine, Finn. All's forgiven. _I'm _sorry for shoving you like that. Are you sure your head is okay?"

"Yeah, it's cool. Doesn't even hurt now," Finn nodded and began cautiously shuffling towards Harry. "Can we - can we help with this?"

"If you like," Harry agreed, smiling more naturally - if a little guiltily - when he heard Kurt mutter, 'Of course he's fine, it was just his head. He doesn't really use that anyway.' "I think there should be enough room in the cooler for the rest of it, if we're clever about it."

"Right, lets get to work before it's all sloppy," Burt grunted, grabbing an armful of tubs and making his way over, shooting Harry an understanding nod when the boy caught his eye - everything was fine. Harry relaxed minutely and handed a tub to Kurt, grinning when his boyfriend shot him a cheeky wink and smacked Finn upside the head in one movement.

"Do not start eating now, Finnegan, I swear to god."

"I was just tasting it..."

Carole found them in a similar position half an hour later, when she got home from work; Harry and Burt quietly fitting the ice-cream into the cooler and freezer while Kurt and Finn bickered, the latter stealing spoonfuls of ice-cream whenever he could and the former ordering the others to arrange the ice-cream by colour -_ no alphabetically, or maybe by flavour?_ She watched wordlessly for a few moments, apparently torn between amusement and bemusement, and Harry waved shlyly, balancing a few tubs in one hand.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked, laughter in her voice. Kurt rolled his eyes as Burt chuckled and Finn looked at the floor.

"I asked Finn to buy some ice-cream. He apparently heard "some" as "all"."

"I see," Carole shot her son a Look, and Finn shuffled his feet sheepishly. Harry just continued to quietly pack away the last few tubs. _Merlin, that was, what, fifty-odd things of ice-cream? We're going to be eating this for weeks! _

"Well, I didn't know what everyone liked, or how much I should get and stuff..." Finn trailed off as Carole's expression remained unimpressed. "Um... I got your favourite? You like Cherry Garcia, right?"

Carole smiled reluctantly, walking forward to peck Finn on the cheek and take Burt's hand, "Yes, thank you, sweetheart. So what's the plan for the evening, then? Are we having a party?"

"Nope, just a quiet night in," Burt clapped Kurt on the shoulder and grinned. "Kurt's idea. We figured we'd get a pizza, watch a movie or two... got any preferences?"

"Anything with Ewan McGregor in it, or any other equivalent eye-candy," Carole shot Kurt and Harry a wink, laughing a little when Kurt nodded approvingly and Harry blushed. Finn perked up a little.

"He's been in a couple of action movies..."

Harry shot Kurt an alarmed look, and Kurt quickly vetoed that idea, "How about a comedy of some kind? I feel like something light-hearted."

The family managed to settle on a movie after a few minutes arguement, and then Burt and Carole sent the three boys upstairs to do homework until. Harry quietly gathered up his supplies from the coffee table in the living room as Finn grumbled and Kurt grabbed their bags from the doorway where they'd been dumped.

"The faster we do it, the faster we get to pizza and ice-cream," Kurt reminded Finn, shoving the boy's ratty backpack into his arms before motioning for Harry to follow him. "Harry, sweetie, do you want any help catching up with yours?"

"I think I'll be all right," Harry assured his boyfriend, lifting up onto his toes to press an impulsive kiss to Kurt's cheek as they started up the stairs. "I flicked through it earlier, it didn't look too hard."

"I could use a little help," Finn smiled hopefully at Kurt as they approached their rooms, and Kurt smiled reluctantly back.

"Sure, Finn. Harry, do you mind if he joins us?"

"Not at all."

The three teenagers made themselves comfortable in Kurt's room, Kurt at his desk, Harry on the bed, Finn on the floor, books and papers strewn around them. Harry quietly worked through a handful of math problems, not struggling with the relatively easy concepts, and kept an interested eye on Kurt and Finn. Kurt was tapping away at his laptop, apparently working on something for Literature if the book open next to him was anything to go by, while prompting Finn when Finn called out questions absentmindedly.

"I totally didn't know Pearl Harbour actually happened," Finn was mumbling somewhere to Harry's left, and Kurt sighed heavily. "I thought it was just a movie. How come we're, like, cool with the Japanese now? I mean, we have sushi and anime and stuff."

"Because we kind of out-did them when we dropped a bomb on Hiroshima," Kurt shook his head at Finn's bemused look. "Honestly, Finn, read the book. There's all kinds of historical horrors for you to discover. And for the record, Titanic actually happened too."

"Dude, really?"

Harry stifled a chuckle as Kurt let his head hit his desk with a thud. The math problems in front of him seemed paltry in front of Finn's issues with learning. He managed to finish them quite fast, and he was reaching for his own Literature text when Finn spoke up again, his voice a lot softer now.

"Did America really drop bombs on civilian cities?"

Kurt paused again, his expression melting from annoyed to vaguely pitying, and Harry lowered his book. The boyfriends exchanged a glance and Kurt slowly turned to face his brother, "Yes, Finn. We did. It was - I mean, it helped end the second world war, so it's not like it was done for no reason, but... yeah. We did."

Finn was still looking at his book quietly, and after a moment he whispered, "But I thought... weren't we the good guys?"

"It was war, Finn," Kurt pointed out gently, and shot an apologetic look at Harry. "Bad things were done on both sides. I mean, considering we were fighting the Nazis and Hitler, who was basically Satan, yeah, I'd say we were on the good side, but that doesn't mean the USA didn't do anything bad at all. War is more complicated than that."

"It's true," Harry found himself saying, barely aware he was speaking. All he could see was Finn's pale, devastated face; _he's just a kid. He doesn't understand that things aren't all black and white. He doesn't know. _"Even good - even usually good people can do terrible things sometimes. Sometimes they have to. War is... it's one of those times where things just aren't simple."

_It's one of those times where people tell sixteen-year-olds to aim to kill. It's one of those times where a school can become a battleground. It's one of those times where good people - great people - will manipulate loved ones like pawns for the sake of the Greater Good._

"Harry?"

Kurt's voice broke into his thoughts, and Harry glanced up. Both Kurt and Finn were looking at him with worry in their eyes, and he smiled reassuringly.

"I'm all right, just - thinking," Harry looked down at his book, not really seeing the words. Finn mumbled to himself,

"I was just wondering, I didn't mean to-"

"Finn, really, it's fine. It's something that's hard to understand, you should ask people about it," Harry looked up at Finn and tried to look as sincere as possible. Finn looked down at his book.

"It's just... my dad was a soldier, you know? He died in Iraq... I just. He's my hero, and-"

"And this shouldn't change a thing," Kurt slipped down onto the floor next to Finn. "Your dad gave his life for his country. He fought for what he believed in, to help, to protect people, that's what soldiers do. He was a hero, and you should be proud of him."

As Finn began to nod slowly, still looking thoughtfully at his book, Kurt's words began to circle in Harry's head. _He fought for what he believed in. That's what soldiers do. He was a hero._

_Huh._

"Harry?"

Finn's voice cut into Harry's thoughts, and the wizard looked down at the boy on the floor curiously. He felt oddly calm in the face of his memories, and he felt himself smile a little at Finn, "Yeah?"

"Did you know any soldiers?" Finn flinched a little at Kurt's warning look and shrugged helplessly. "It's just - that w-war you saw really hurt you, and it's like - it seems like you must have-"

"I knew a lot of soldiers," Harry interrupted, looking thoughtfully over the top of Finn's head at the wall behind him, faces flashing through his memory, faces of men and woman he'd fought alongside; _Wesley Patterson, Lewis Newbury, Tonks, __**Kingsley**__._.. some dead, some alive, all damaged by the war. "They were all heroes. Some of them were complete arseholes who I kind of wanted to punch sometimes, but they were all - they were all heroes."

"Did they all die?" Finn's voice sounded ridiculously small considering his size, and Kurt was watching Harry carefully. Harry just smiled and looked down at his hands.

"Not all of them," the wizard shrugged and idly tugged at the edge of his text book. "You should... keep reading. It's good stuff to understand, and the notes I've got say that the aftermath of Hiroshima might be on the exam."

"Oh yeah," Finn looked back down at his book with a frown, picking up a pen again reluctantly. Kurt gave his step-brother one last pat on the shoulder before getting to his feet, ignoring his own work and sweeping over to Harry to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Harry shut his eyes as Kurt swooped in, smiling against his boyfriend's soft lips until Kurt pulled back. Kurt looked down at him with bright eyes and a fierce expression, and Harry shrugged.

"Look at me, getting through a whole conversation without freaking out."

"I'm proud of you," Kurt insisted, keeping his voice low and leaning forward press his forehead against Harry's. "That was really good, and I'm so proud of you. Do you think you can keep working or do you want to stop?"

"We've only been at it twenty minutes," Harry pointed out, looking down at his books. "I should at least start an essay plan."

"Okay," Kurt nodded easily, kissing Harry once on the cheek before straightening and returning to his computer. "Just stop if you get tired; Hermione said that your body is going to be fast to tire for a little while."

The three boys managed to work in relative silence, broken only by Finn's occasional questions and Kurt's usually patient answers, until Carole knocked on the door with a smile.

"What kind of pizza do you boys want?" Carole waved a little pad of paper in front of her before positioning a pen at the ready, looking expectantly at her sons. Finn perked up and basically launched the book of his lap, clambering to his feet as he started to make his order.

"Can we get a large Meat Lovers with extra bacon and a barbeque chicken with sausage and - "

"Okay, you know what? Just write it down here," Carole threw the pad of paper over to her son, snickering a little when it bounced off of his face and he scrambled after it. "What about you, Harry, Kurt?"

"Can I have a Hawaiian, please, Carole?" Kurt smiled up at his step-mother, and Harry nodded as he went on. "Harry and I can probably share, actually, he doesn't eat much."

"And I might steal a piece of one of Finn's Artery Clogger Supreme," the wizard added, peering over the edge of the bed to where Finn had sat down again to write out a long list of orders. "I don't think he'll miss one piece."

"Probably not," Carole agreed dryly. "Kurt, your father and I are getting a caeser salad with our pizzas, would you like one?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm going to be bad today," Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment, before shooting Harry a look. "Though perhaps you should have a bit..."

"One night lacking in nutritional content won't kill me," Harry shook his head, smiling at Carole. "I'll be all right with bits of other people's pizzas."

"All right, great," Carole looked down at Finn, rolling her eye when she saw that he'd filled up the page with his order. "Finn, sweetheart, you have ice-cream to eat as well."

Finn blinked up at her, "Yeah, I know."

His mother sighed and held out her hand for the notebook, and Finn quickly scribbled a few lines and handed it over. She tucked it under her arm and waved to them, stepping back out of the room, "I'll leave you boys to your homework."

"Thanks Carole," Kurt waved his step-mother out. He smiled at his boyfriend and winked. "Tonight's going to be fun, I can feel it."

It really was. The family and Harry eventually managed to agree on a comedy with an attractive male lead - the name of whom immediately escaped Harry - and ate pizza until there were empty boxes stacked high on the coffee table. Finn managed to clear off nearly four full pizzas on his own, to the disgust of Kurt, and washed it down with an entire gallon of Coke. When it came time for them to break out the ice-cream (Burt allowing Kurt to serve him a small portion) Harry sampled little bits of several tubs, smiling at Carole when the woman guiltily added chocolate sauce to her bowl. Harry ate until he felt ill, and it wasn't until he was getting ready for bed that he remembered why he'd been so upset in the first place - Remus.

_"We think he may have killed someone," - it's all my fault, I shouldn't have - he's in an institution - may have killed someone - all my fault, should have stopped him, could have helped him, Remus I need you, why did you have to go, I need a draught, I need a draught, why did he take them he left me he left me he** killed someone** -_

He was making his way down the stairs towards where Kurt was setting up the couch for sleep before he knew what he was doing. Kurt looked up with a smile that faded when he saw the stricken look on Harry's face. Before he could ask, Harry blurted out, "They think Remus killed someone."

There was a long pause. Kurt's eyes went wide, horrified, and Harry felt the pain he'd been ignoring bubble back up. "He - they don't know for sure, we don't have any details yet but that's what they said. We just heard today, this morning, that's why I was... He might have killed someone and if he did, if he has then it's my fault -

"Sweetheart, no," Kurt protested, snapped out of his shock to cross the room, pulling Harry into his arms as the smaller boy began to tear up.

"He's in a hospital," he wept, not sure if Kurt could even hear him but needing to say it out loud. "He's in a mental hospital, and he might have killed someone, and I'm here ignoring it, being happy like this and I shouldn't be, I don't deserve to be when he's so hurt and he's hurt someone and I could have stopped it-"

"Harry, please," Kurt begged, desperately running his hands up and down Harry's back to try and sooth the nearly hysterical boy. Harry just shook his head and held on tighter.

"Can I sleep with you tonight? Just - down here or in your room? Please? I don't want to be alone," Harry begged against where he was pressed against Kurt's chest.

"Of course," Kurt kissed Harry's forehead and lead his boyfriend up the stairs, rubbing circles on Harry's back as they staggered their way into Kurt's room. Harry let himself be lowered to the bed, not concerned with anything except clinging onto Kurt and burying his face into the crook of his neck. Kurt slipped off Harry's glasses and tugged the blankets over them with one hand, whispering quiet assurances into Harry's hair.

"Just sleep, sweetheart," Kurt whispered, letting Harry cling to him. "It'll seem better in the morning. Just sleep. I won't let you go. I love you, Harry. I love you so much. This will get better. I promise."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Hello again my poor, patient readers. I know it's been months; I wish I had a decent explanation for you but really, the only thing I can say is that you told me to take a break if I felt that writing was detrimental to my mental health and, well, I took you at your word. I've had a bad few months, mental health-wise, and though it wasn't because of Notoriety at all I didn't want to risk triggering myself. I was already getting triggered by slight breezes, I really didn't need anything else.

You've all been wonderful and patient and supportive, and I couldn't have asked for a nicer or more understanding group of readers, so I hope this chapter is enough to keep you going. I'm still struggling quite a lot, but hopefully things will start feeling easier soon. Fingers crossed!

* * *

Harry woke the next morning to a startled squeak in his ear. His eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, noting the sunlight glowing on the walls, the blankets twisted around his feet, and the startled, embarrassed look on Kurt's face before remembering where he was. _Right, Kurt's room, I was - what is he -  
_  
"Wha's wrong?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. There was a faint cough in the doorway and Harry felt a blush rising on his cheeks. He followed Kurt's gaze to the doorway, and froze. Burt was standing in Kurt's open doorway, eyebrows raised and a pinched, unhappy look to his mouth. "Oh."

"Nothing happened!" Kurt yelped, scrambling upwards so he was sitting against the headboard, his face bright red. His voice was rising to a very shrill pitch, and he shot Harry a desperate glance. "Dad, really. Harry was upset last night; he didn't want to be alone."

"Really," Burt looked between them, folding his arms over his chest and frowning a little. Harry looked awkwardly between father and son, reaching slowly for his glasses while Burt stared Kurt down. "I thought I made it pretty clear that now that Harry's in his right mind again, I didn't want you two sharing a bed."

"I asked him to," Harry interrupted carefully, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I remembered - I'd forgotten why I was so upset yesterday when we were eating and everything but when I went to bed I remembered and I just - I wanted him close. I'm sorry, I didn't realise there was a rule against it."

Burt's expression had softened as Harry spoke, and he sighed, "All right, I get that you might need a bit of support right now - but you get why I'm not really comfortable with you two sharing a bed all night, right?"

"Yes, of course," Kurt nodded, his cheeks still aflame. Harry hesitated. Well...

"No, not really," the wizard shrugged apologetically at Kurt's Look. "I'm sorry, I'm happy to obey if it's a rule, but I don't really understand..."

"Kid, it might shock you but I do remember being 17," a reluctant grin was stretching across Burt's face as Kurt cringed. "Two teenage boys, who are dating, alone, in a bed, all night... stuff is going to happen."

_Oh Merlin._

"No it's not," Harry bit out, shooting Kurt a horrified, apologetic look. "I don't - Christ, I don't even think about that stuff, ever. Nothing is going to happen, not like that. It didn't even occur to me, Merlin's beard."

Burt looked startled by his vehemence, and a slow, concerned look began to darken the man's face. Kurt was looking a little hurt, though, so Harry focused on him, "No, I mean - it's nothing about you personally, love, I'm just a little... you know. Delayed? Socially?"

"Is that all it is?" Burt asked, his tone a mile away from the disapproving one it had been. Harry looked up at him with a furrowed brow, and Burt's expression remained cautious and concerned. "Just that you're, you know... I mean, you're not... nobody has ever...?"

Harry blinked and glanced at Kurt, bewildered. Kurt's eyes had gotten a little wider and his face looked a bit paler, and Harry reached for him, "Er, could you be a little clearer? I'm not sure what you're asking."

"Are you uncomfortable with sex because you're just not ready for it yet," Burt clarified, Harry's cheeks flooding again. "Or is there something - did something happen to...?"

"Oh, god, somebody didn't –" Kurt cut himself off when Burt shook his head, taking a shaky breath and starting again. Harry was already beginning to see where they were going, his stomach dropping when he saw how Kurt's eyes were damp. "Because you can tell us, Harry, I promise we'll – "

_Wait, no, that's not -_

"Oh, no, you mean have I been r-raped or – no, not that," Harry shook his head, catching Kurt's hands in his to try and calm to clearly panicking boy, and smiling a little wryly at Kurt and Burt's simultaneous sighs. "No, not at all. Nothing like it. I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to scare you. Sexual assault is one thing I managed to avoid over the years, actually. Pretty much the only thing, but, you know, hooray. No, I'm just not comfortable with the idea because I'm, you know, an emotionally-stunted man-child."

"Oh, thank God," Kurt breathed out, laughing a little at Harry's sheepish shrug. "God, I shouldn't laugh, but I hadn't even _thought_ of that, and I was so - "

"Sorry," Harry fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, looking up at Burt guiltily. "So yeah. Didn't mean to break the rules."

Burt shook his head and the tension drained from his shoulders, "It's okay, kid. I get it. You had a bad day."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his mouth twitching down as he thought back_. Remus, hospitals, god, what am I going to do?_ "Yeah, that's definitely true."

He smiled a bit when he felt Kurt's fingers running through his hair. His boyfriend leaned back towards him and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek, settling in next to him so Harry could curl up against his side.

"What time is it, dad?" Kurt asked Burt, stifling a yawn as he politely ignored the way Harry was trembling lightly against him.

"Little after eight," Burt shrugged and began edging back to the door. "You can go back to sleep for a while if you want - it's Saturday, you don't have to get up. I just woke you up when I realised Kurt wasn't on the couch."

"I have a lot to do," Harry kissed Kurt on the cheek before kicking down the blankets. "I should probably get up. Are you going to sleep in, love?"

"I think I might," Kurt yawned again, slipping down the bed so he was tucked under the covers again. Burt nodded and shuffled out the door, leaving it open for Harry to slip out behind him.

"I really didn't mean to break any rules," Harry murmured as he shut Kurt's door behind him. Burt shook his head even as Harry rushed on. "And I promise you, I'm never going to do anything that Kurt's not comfortable with. He – he means too much to me."

"You'd better not," Burt grumbled, before clapping Harry on the shoulder. "But kid – don't do anything you're not comfortable with either. All right? Feels weird to be tellin' you this, but I guess you haven't had anyone else ever say it – you matter. Don't let anyone make you feel like you don't."

"Thank you," was all Harry could manage to say, stopping outside the bathroom. Burt nodded and cleared his throat.

"Don't use up all the hot water," Burt added, heading down the stairs. "'sbad enough that Kurt does it."

Harry took stock of his still-healing injuries in the shower. His bruises were still fading, looking faintly yellow around the edges of the green and blue, and the little wounds here and there were basically closed. He let the hot water sooth the aches in his muscles as he rubbed a fruity smelling shampoo into his hair, and he even managed to smile at his sallow reflection when he got out. It was the start of a weekend, and Harry was determined that it would be a real start to his recovery.

Harry tried to make himself useful throughout the weekend. He helped Carole in the kitchen, and with general chores, and Finn with his school work. He helped Kurt stitch up costumes for Regionals that Tina brought over in front of the TV with Burt, taking slow, deep breathes when the nightly news showed images from a foreign war. Hermione assured him that Neville and Luna were dealing with Remus - whatever that meant. They had no new word on the person he might have killed, though, so Harry did his best to put it out of his mind. He couldn't even leave the Hummel house yet, he definitely wasn't up to chasing Remus down. Keeping busy helped keep his anxiety down; he didn't even panic on Sunday when Hermione left. He just held her tightly while she mumbled comfort and worry into his hair, before pushing her out the Hummel's front door into Puck's arms.

(She texted Harry seven times as Puck drove her to the airport. Ron eventually called her to calm her down.)

Harry and Kurt shared a bed both nights, and after Burt stumbled across Harry attempting to sleepwalk out the front door with Kurt patiently holding him back, there were no comments about it. The nightmares didn't fade. It would probably be years before they did. But by the time Kurt and Finn ran out the door for school on Monday Harry felt comfortable enough to wave goodbye from the doorway.

"D'you think you'll be ready to go back in a week or two?" Burt asked him when he'd shut the door. Harry blanched and shook his head.

"No, I don't – sorry, I know it's been ages but –"

"Relax, kiddo, it was just a question. Take all the time you need," Burt sipped the herbal tea Kurt had put in front of him that morning, cringing at the taste. "Christ, tastes like dirt. When Ron gettin' over here? I'll get me some coffee at the shop."

"Any minute now," Harry sank back against the couch. "You can go if you want to, I'll be all right."

"No, I can wait," Burt shook his head, putting the mug of tea down definitively. "Gah, no more of that. Don't tell Kurt I hate this stuff, okay?"

"I won't bring it up, but you know I can't lie to him," Harry smiled a little, but he could feel his forehead wrinkling with confusion. "Burt, really, if you need to get to work you can just go. I'll be fine for ten minutes. I'm feeling a lot better today, I don't feel panicky at all."

Burt hesitated for a moment, but his voice was firm, "Nope, it's fine. I got time."

"I don't want to be keeping you back – " Harry protested again, the way Burt's mouth had tensed setting him on edge._ Why won't he leave? _Burt sighed and raised an eyebrow in Harry's direction.

"Sorry, kiddo, but I'm not real comfortable leaving you alone right now. Not while you're still a little bit, you know, suicidal."

Harry's stomach dropped, and so did his jaw, "What?"

"Three days ago you said you hated yourself and deserved to die, Harry," Burt pointed out, watching Harry carefully. "I know you were kinda hysterical, I know you prob'ly weren't thinking all that straight but can you see why we're a little bit worried still?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, looking down at his feet. "But I'm not – I mean, I don't have any plan to – "

"Good, glad to hear it," Burt half-laughed, dragging himself out of his armchair and towards the kitchen. "'m not sayin' we think you are plannin' it, we're all just a little paranoid right now."

_Well yeah, I guess they should be, but I'm not going to – am I? No, I promised Kurt I wouldn't, and I don't really – I don't actually want to, do I? I'm going to get better, I _want_ to get better. I have to. _

Before Harry could respond (either to reassure or further deny, he hadn't decided yet) there was a knock at the front door. Harry moved to answer it without thinking, staring blankly up at Ron when the door swung open.

"Morning, mate," Ron greeted Harry easily, not reacting to the still somewhat shell-shocked look on Harry's face. Harry looked up at him blankly.

"I'm not going to kill myself," Harry informed him vaguely, still half-lost in thought. Ron blinked down at him, his cheerful smile not shifting.

"Glad to hear it. Can I come in?"

"Come in, Ron, don't mind him," Burt came up behind Harry and waved Ron in. "I think I just worried him a bit, sorry kiddo."

As Burt shut the front door behind himself, Ron rummaged in his bag for a notebook, "I spoke to Hermione this morning. She managed to get the laptop to Healer Ryan last night - well, morning for her - so you'll be able to start therapy again now."

Harry sighed, relaxing against the couch, "That's fantastic. Merlin, do you remember how much I resented it when I first started last year? Now I'm actually relieved to get it."

"Well, you were kind of ordered to do it and neither of us have ever been great at being told what to do. We're older and wiser, I guess," Ron pointed out, nudging Harry's knee with his own. "Can you go and get your lap top? 'Mione and Healer Ryan said that they'd set up a Sypey call for 9 am Ohio time."

"It's Skype, and just give me a minute," Harry smiled a little at Ron, reluctantly removing himself from his friend's warm side to scurry upstairs. He grabbed his laptop off of Kurt's bedside table with one hand, grinning at the mess in Kurt's closet - Kurt had had a little trouble deciding whether his colour scheme was sky or periwinkle blue this morning, and the neat order of his accessories had suffered as a result. Vowing to himself to tidy it up later, Harry held his laptop and all his laptop accessories in his arms and headed back to the living room.

"How long will all that take to set up? We're meant to call them in half an hour," Ron eyed the laptop with trepidation, the tangle of wires resting on the case slipping against Harry's arms. Harry just smiled.

"Oh, about three minutes," he assured the redhead, carefully placing the laptop of the coffee table and sorting out the power cord from the mouse cord and the external hard-drive Hermione had supplied for him. True to his word, he set it all up quickly and efficiently; Kurt had drilled that much into him over the weekend. Ron looked impressed.

"I just can't get my head around all these muggle things," he shook his head, prodding at the blinking lights of the external hard-drive with one of his enormous fingers. "All the wires and lights and buttons... and muggles seem to just know it all, like it's instinct. It's mad."

"Well, I guess everything can be instinctive if you grow up with it. I mean, muggles would be lost if confronted with knitting needles that knit themselves," Harry tapped in his password - Hedwig11 - with two fingers and carefully clicked on the Skype logo when it popped up. The dark thoughts from earlier were still niggling at the back of his mind, and he spoke softly without taking his eyes of the computer screen. "Ron? Did you and Hermione ever worry about it? About me hurting myself?"

"Yes," was the automatic response, and when Harry flinched Ron elaborated. "Not, like, constantly. Not even really often. But right after all that shit ended last year, when you started talking to the Healer... yeah, we worried. You were really... I don't know. Hurt. But you seemed so much better after you came here, so we didn't really think about it again. Even when all that weird shit with that stalker was going down you seemed okay."

"I was okay," Harry kept his eyes on the computer screen. "And I'll be okay. I'm not - I don't like the idea that people are worrying about me."

"Tough luck, we're gonna worry," Ron patting Harry's head, smiling when Harry shot him a glare. The glare softened into a worried frown at the hesitance behind Ron's expression. "How worried are these Yanks about this, mate?"

"Pretty worried," Harry admitted reluctantly, looking back down at the computer screen without really seeing it. "I, er - had a kind of hysterical fit a few days back. I said some - some stuff."

"Thanks Harry, that cleared up all my questions," Ron rolled his eyes and nudged Harry with his shoulder. "Come on. If you can't tell your best mate what your hysterical fits are about, who can you tell?"

Harry huffed out a little laugh_. At least he's trying to be normal_. "I said - well, that I wanted to die. I don't, not really, but I was really out of it."

"Might cause a little bit of concern, though," Ron slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders, squeezing the smaller boy to him. "You do realize that if you kill yourself I will murder you, right?"

Harry snorted, leaning into Ron's massive shoulder, "Yeah, right, I'll keep that in mind."

"I'm completely bloody serious, mate, I'll find a way," Ron continued serenely, pinching Harry's arm lightly. "If I somehow, by some miracle, managed to get through that bloody war without losing one of my many brothers, I'm sure as hell not gonna lose one afterwards. All right?"

"Yeah, all right," Harry grinned, feeling warmth blossom in his chest where the nagging guilt had been a moment ago. He leaned against Ron's side with a content sigh, looking back at the computer. A notice had popped up on screen while he and Ron had been talking, so Harry reluctantly leaned away from his friend's side to read it. It said something about allowing someone access or information, and it was only when Harry saw that the name attached was healerb1978 that he clicked OK. A little icon appeared at the side of the window, and moments later a call was coming through.

"Wait, whoa, what's happening?" Ron sounded alarmed, and Harry shrugged.

"What's meant to happen, I think?"

Sure enough, after a moment they could see both Hermione's head and Healer Bryan's head peering at the screen.

"Turn your camera on, Harry," Hermione's voice filtered through the speakers, and Harry squinted at the screen.

"Right, right, just let me..." Harry clicked carefully at what he thought was the right button. A little window with his and Ron's faced in it appeared in the corner, and he smiled. "Er, hello."

"This is amazing, how does this work?" Ron breathed, leaning close to the screen and peering at the window. His eye got ridiculously large in the little window in the corner of the screen, and Harry pulled him back.

"Right, good to see you both. Ron, go away so Harry and Healer Bryan can talk," Hermione announced, getting to her feet and disappearing from the screen. Ron got up at a more sedate pace.

"Yeah, I'm going. I'll be in the kitchen, mate. Good to see you, Healer."

"You too, Ron," Healer Bryan agreed in his soft, deep voice. As Harry relaxed against the sofa, eyes stuck on the screen, Healer Bryan settled back and smiled widely. "Harry. It's good to see you again. How have you been?"

When Harry walked into the kitchen about an hour and a half later, Ron was digging into one of the tubs of ice-cream from the week before. He looked up over his spoon expectantly, shoving another mouthful in cheerfully.

"'ow'd i' go?" Ron mouthed around his ice-cream. Harry nodded vaguely, sniffling a little and rubbing at his tear-raw cheeks.

"As well as it could have, all things considered," he cleared his throat when he heard how husky his voice was, walking to the sink to grab a spoon. "Budge over, I'm in need of ice-cream too."

"This is the best ice-cream ever," Ron agreed, smacking his lips. "I gotta admit, America does really good junk food. Their chips are crappy, though."

Harry agreed with a hum, dipping his spoon into the tub and getting a large lump. He sucked in into his mouth, sighing happily, before mumbling around his mouthful of ice-cream, "I'm gonna talk to him four days a week."

"Probably smart, to begin with," Ron nodded, eyes still on the ice-cream. Harry sighed a little.

"Yeah. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday mornings, at seven. It's going to be exhausting."

"Ah well, it probably won't have to be that intense for long. Use it as an excuse to get cuddles from your boyfriend."

"That's not a bad idea."

Ron and Harry demolished the ice-cream, Harry happily listening to Ron describe his Auror training, pushing the harrowing talk with Healer Bryan to the back of his mind.

He liked the Healer, but having to explain everything that had happened since he came to the States - from the stalker to Kurt to _Remus_ - and having to relieve all that pain... it was draining. It was always draining. The Healer had praised his progress, smiling encouragingly when Harry described how the terror sat always below his skin, and spoke in low, even tones when Harry became too choked up to speak. Therapy was a familiar process, and in a weird way even as it drained him and hurt him he could already feel a weight lift from his shoulders. Now he really could start to get better.

"I made some telephone calls while you were on Sypey," Ron informed Harry around a mouthful of double choc fudge. "I had t' throw some weight around - and by weight I mean money - but I think things are sorted out. When Burt gets home I'm gonna go and get the paperwork."

"He said he'd be home early, a bit after lunch," Harry recalled, shooting the ice-cream a regretful glance. "We might have to eat something other than ice-cream. You know. For nutrition. Or Burt will tell Kurt and Kurt will kill us both."

"Why would Burt tell him? Would he care?"

"No, but the second Kurt turns the puppy-dog eyes on him he can't not."

The boys made sandwiches and retired to the living room, turning the TV on to a music station and sinking back into the couch with Harry curled up at Ron's side. They ate their sandwiches mostly in silence, outside Ron's occasional question about something muggle, and Harry just let himself recover from his emotionally fraught morning. They stayed there until Burt got home mid-afternoon; Ron was channel-surfing with Harry dozing on his shoulder when Burt came in.

"How you boys doin'?" the man rumbled as he kicked off his shoes in the doorway. Harry peered over the back of the couch and shrugged, forcing a little smile.

"We're all right. I got to speak to my therapist this morning."

"That's good. You work out a schedule?"

"Yeah, four days a week."

"Burt, I wrote some notes on custody stuff, they're on the counter," Ron added, smiling up at the older man. He swung himself up onto his ridiculously long legs and stretched. "Take a look at them when you got time, I'll go get the paperwork now. Harry, if you want to see the stuff it's on the bench in the kitchen."

"I'll leave it to you, I don't want to think about it."

"Fair enough. I'll take a look at them after I have a shower," Burt nodded to Ron and headed up

With Ron gone, Harry couldn't really think of anything to do but work on his homework and try not to panic. He forced his head down and his focus on the stacks of work, pushing back any thoughts of Remus or returning to school or where the hell was he going to live, fuck, what if I have to go into care, how can I deal with that?

It didn't go so well. When Kurt and Finn got home after Glee rehearsals he was curled up on the couch, clutching Kurt's pillow and trying to supress his shivers.

"Oh sweetheart," he heard Kurt sigh, and he glanced over the top of the pillow a little sheepishly, forcing half a smile.

"I'm okay, just - er, give me a minute."

Kurt nodded and shoved his bag into Finn's arms, muttering to his step-brother, "You put that down carefully in my room, so help me god..." before sitting down next to Harry and letting the smaller boy burrow up against his side. Harry smiled a little and shrugged against Kurt, peering up at him through his eyelashes and crooked glasses.

"Ron said he worked out something to do with my custody," Harry leaned into Kurt. "He wrote notes about it but - I'm too scared to look."

"That explains why Mr Schue said he'd see me and Finn later," Kurt muttered, reaching up to run his fingers through Harry's tangled hair. "He must be coming over to discuss it with my dad. Don't worry about it too much, sweetie, we're not gonna kick you onto the streets."

"I know, it's just - " Harry cut himself with a frustrated sigh, scratching at the back of his hand as he glared at the ceiling. "The Dursleys used to - they used to try and scare me with stories about orphanages and foster homes, about how bad they were and stuff. I know they were just trying to make themselves look generous by comparison but... there's only so often you can hear that kind of thing and not begin to believe it on some level."

"I'm sure you won't have to go into any kind of care," Kurt reassured him, squeezing Harry a little closer to his side. "But even if you did... those things aren't as bad as they are in the movies. I'm sure it would be okay. And you could still stay here whenever you wanted."

"I know, I know, it isn't rational," Harry dropped his head onto his arms, curling his legs up under him a little tighter. "'m sorry, I'm just a little off-balance."

"Don't worry about it," Harry could feel Kurt shrug against him. "Let's not worry about it now, yes? How's your homework going?"

They chatted about it until the coil of tension had begun to ease in Harry's chest and he could relax himself. Kurt kept up the chatter while he helped Harry put his stuff together to take up stairs, describing the glee rehearsal ("Rachel's new song is actually kind of good, colour me surprised.") and the various dramas and tribulations of Glee club ("Oh god, I don't even know what they're arguing about but Tina dumped blue ink all over Mercedes' new shoes."). When they got to Kurt's room Harry was laughing, much to the visible relief of Finn, who was waiting for them just inside.

"Dude, you feelin' better? All right!" Finn held out his fist for a bump, which Harry provided with a shrug.

"Yeah, for now. You need something?" Harry dropped his stuff on Kurt's desk, smiling when Kurt immediately straightened it. Finn scratched the back of his head.

"Well, I was kinda hoping to get some help with homework stuff again...?"

Kurt and Harry shared a glance and shrugged. Kurt turned back to Finn, "Get your books, what do you need to work on?"

"Chem and Spanish. I think the only reason I didn't fail my last test was because Mr Schue likes me," Finn said glumly, heading for his room. Harry stifled a snicker when Kurt nodded his agreement, grabbing his Spanish book from the pile on the desk.

"He's not wrong," Kurt whispered when Finn was out of earshot. "One time, he tried to copy off of Santana, but she saw what he was doing and wrote all these Spanish swear words first, then erased them and wrote the right answers when he was done. It was brutal."

"Oh god."

Finn wasn't kidding when he said he needed help. By the time Kurt had talked him through balancing a single chemical equation Harry had nearly completed all the chemistry work he'd had left from the week he'd had off. Kurt looked ready to tear his hair out, and he hadn't had a chance to start his own homework yet, so Harry spoke up, "Hey Kurt, why don't I help Finn for a while? You can do your own thing for a while."

"Thanks, Harry, that'd be great," Kurt gave Finn a pat on the shoulder and stood up. "Don't worry, brother mine, you'll get it. Maybe Harry will be able to explain it better."

"Yeah, thanks man," Finn muttered, not looking up from his work as Harry slid down next to him. "'m sorry about this, I just don't get it."

"It's fine, mate," Harry nudged Finn with his elbow, smiling when the taller boy finally looked at him. "We all need help sometimes."

Harry paused for a moment, thinking of all the Hudmel family had done for him, "Hell, some of us need more than others. But Kurt and I don't mind. What are you having problems with?"

Plenty was the short answer, and the three boys were still working on Finn's equations when Mr Schuester arrived nearly two hours later. Finn bounded off down the stairs to greet him, clearly grateful to get away from the periodic table, and Kurt and Harry slowly followed.

"So are you beginning to understand why we don't mind helping you?" Kurt mumbled before they left the room, shooting Harry a little grin. "Because we all – "

"…Need help and support sometimes, yadda yadda, yes, I'm getting there," Harry paused to kiss Kurt's smiling mouth briefly. "I get it, just give me some time to believe it."

"If that's what it takes, I'll give you all the time in the world," Kurt promised, taking Harry's hand as they walked down the hall.

Mr Schuester and Burt were talking quietly over a stack of papers in the entrance when Harry and Kurt reached the landing. They quietened as the two boys started to walk down, and Harry squeezed Kurt's hand a little tighter.

"Hey Harry, how're you feeling?" Mr Schuester smiled up at them, and Harry tried to smile back.

"I'm doing pretty well overall, I think," Harry glanced at Kurt and took a deep breath. "I'm guessing Ron's work has paid off? With the c-custody stuff, I mean?"

"Yeah, we think we've got a solution," Mr Schuester nodded, exchanging a look with Burt. "We want to discuss it with you, of course, if you're up to it?"

"Yeah, I think I – yeah," Harry looked down at his feet and breathed in slow and deep, tamping down the burst of panic and hurt that struck him. It was really happening; soon enough, Remus would no longer be his guardian and he'd have been passed off to someone else once more.

"How 'bout we go up to Kurt's room, you seem to like it there," Burt suggested gently, tugging on the cap of his hat and nodding towards the kitchen. "Kurt, I think Carole could use some help with dinner, why don't you join her and Finn?"

Harry felt Kurt stiffen beside him and could almost hear the protest about to burst from his boyfriend's lips. The wizard forced his eyes off of his feet to look up at his boyfriend reassuringly, "I'll be fine, love. I'll call if I need you."

"You'd better," Kurt grumbled, pulling Harry into a firm hug before dragging himself away, shooting his father a warning look before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Well, let's get this over with," Harry murmured, turning to make his way back upstairs. Dread was building in his stomach; he had utterly no idea what would come of this discussion. Foster care, being lobbed off or forced on the Hummels or another unwitting family… it all sounded like a nightmare.

The three men made their way to Kurt's room, Mr Schue sitting at Kurt's vanity and Burt resting against the desk. Harry sat on the bed with an awkward smile, picking at his fingernails when Burt and Mr Schuester exchanged a look.

"So your friend Ron worked some magic, everything is sorted," Burt began after reaching some kind of silent consensus with Mr Schuester. Harry bit down a laugh at Burt's unintentional pun as the man went on. "Your guardianship is only a signature away. We just wanted to give you some choice on how that goes."

Harry blinked, "Er, really?"

"Well, it is your life," Mr Schuester pointed out with a little grin. Harry shrugged.

"I've never gotten any say in this stuff before."

"You do this time. The way we figure, you got three options here," Burt interrupted, leaning forward. "The first option is that you go into foster care, which obviously none of us want and'll only happen as the very last resort if we can't work anything out."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice a little hoarse. He could see in the mirror behind Mr Schuester's head that he'd gone pale at just the mention of foster care; the Dursleys had tormented him for years with stories of what would happen to him there if they finally got sick of him. Mr Schuester reached over from Kurt's vanity stool to rest a hand on Harry's arm.

"You're not going to end up in care if you don't want to, Harry," he told the boy firmly, squeezing his arm. "You have other options, and it's entirely up to you."

"The second option is that you stay here," Burt continued, holding up his hands like he was warding off protestations. "And I'm telling you now, we want you here. Me and Carole and Finn, we talked about it, and we're happy to have you if here's where you want to be. But we don't have a spare room, kiddo. You'd have to share with Finn, and I know you lived in a dorm for years but he didn't. So you living here - while we wouldn't mind at all - might not be such a great idea."

Harry nodded slowly, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He dug his nails into his palm to try and stop the tears welling up in his eyes; even though he knew Burt had a point, that the Hummel household just didn't have room for another teenager, it still felt somehow like he was being rejected.

"Hey now, don't look like that," Burt reached forward to clap Harry on the shoulder, his eyes compassionate under the brim of his hat. "You always got a place here when you need it, Harry, always. If you don't think you'll be happy anywhere else we'll make it work. But you got another option that I think might be better for you."

"Where?" Harry asked, hating how his voice trembled. Mr Schuester and Burt exchanged an unreadable look, and the teacher eventually turned to look Harry in the eye.

"Harry, if you were okay with the idea I would be happy to take you in," Mr Schuester began gently, smiling a little at the way Harry's face went slack with shock. "I have a spare room that's just storing junk right now, and my apartment is easily big enough for two people. Usually there'd be some problems with a teacher taking in a student but with the legal wrangling your friend Ron has done it won't be an issue. And I'd be happy to have you, Harry. More than happy."

"Really?" Harry finally managed to choke out, cutting off his teacher's nervous rambling. Mr Schuester nodded emphatically, a smile beginning to stretch across his face. Harry shook his head a little, just to try and clear it. "You'd really...? But you don't have to do that."

"No, I don't," Mr Schuester laughed a little, rocking forward to grasp Harry's arm again. "But I want to."

There was a pause as Harry looked blankly at his teacher, then at Burt, and back again. His head was swimming with possibilities - it was his choice.

_I can't remember ever having a choice in where I live before. Ever. I can choose what feels best for me._

"I'm going to leave you two to talk for a bit," Burt stood, ruffling Harry's already mussed hair lightly. At Harry's confused look he shrugged. "I ain't suggesting you have to go with Schuester, Harry, I just think you should hear him out before you decide. The choice is entirely yours, we'll help you either way. Remember, kiddo, if it's what you want we're happy to have you here. Just think about it."

With another nod at Mr Schuester, Burt left the room, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. Harry looked back at his teacher, waiting for him to start talking.

"There's another reason I think it would be a good idea for you to live with me, Harry," the man admitted after a moment's hesitation. At Harry's curious look he sighed a little. "Harry, if you live here Burt will treat you the same way he treats Kurt and Finn. That would only be fair."

"Right," Harry agreed, smiling a little at the idea of eating dinner with the family, helping with dishes and watching TV in the late evenings. Mr Schuester went on cautiously.

"I know that might sound nice to begin with, but... you're not Finn and Kurt."

At Harry's confused and slightly hurt look the teacher rushed to explain himself, "I just mean that with everything you've been through, with all the trauma and the times your guardians have burned you... you're not really a kid. Not like Finn and Kurt. And I don't think you'll take well to being treated like one."

Harry paused for a moment, think back to all the times Finn had complained of being grounded for some error in judgement, having his phone or his XBox taken away, and tried to imagine how he would take it if Burt tried to ground him, "...you may have a point."

"Uh huh," Mr Schuester nodded sympathetically. "You told me once that you'd been looking after yourself since you were two, and while you don't have to do that anymore I get that that mindset - that independence - that's not going away. And I think Burt gets it too, but he's got two not-as-mature teenage boys to think of. I mean, don't get me wrong, as your guardian I'd set you boundaries I'd expect you to follow but I'm not a father - I don't have to think about consistency. And I don't think you'd break any reasonable rule without good reason."

"I was a bit of a troublemaker at my old school," Harry admitted with a little grin, thinking of Ron and Hermione and him all huddled under his invisibility cloak, holding their breath while Filch or Peeves or Mrs Norris wandered by. "But you're right, it was never for the sake of it. I'll - I'll try to do the right thing."

"So, does that mean...?" the teacher trailed off, his smile widening hopefully. Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"If you're really sure you're okay with it, I'd like to live with you," Harry agreed quietly, smiling a little when Mr Schuester's face lit up. "You're right, it's probably better that I don't stay here, being treated like a kid drives me nuts. And I wouldn't want to impose on Finn."

"Harry, the most important thing here is that you're doing what you want to do, don't worry about anyone else-" Mr Schuester hurried out, his brow creasing and the corners of his mouth turning down, but Harry shook his head.

"This is what I want. I would - it's a better idea. I want to. I can't thank you enough, Mr Schue," Harry felt a lump form in his throat and he rubbed his eyes sheepishly. "I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me."

"You don't have to thank me for this," Mr Schuester got off of the stool and scooted next to Harry on Kurt's bed. He slipped an arm around the teenager's shoulder and tugged the boy to his side, squeezing him gently. "You really don't. I want you there, buddy. Since my divorce it's been really quiet at home; it'll be nice having someone around again. We'll work out the details later, okay? We should let Burt and Kurt know what you've decided."

"Okay," Harry agreed, getting to his feet with a weak laugh. "But, uh - there will be details. I mean, I have a whole house I don't know what to do with. And I can pay rent and board or -"

"No you can_not_, you will be my ward, not my tenant," Mr Schuester interrupted, squeezing Harry's shoulder with one strong hand. "Do you own the house or does Remus, do you know?"

"I do," Harry confirmed as they started down the stairs, forcing himself not to cringe at his former-guardian's name. "It's all in my name, since it's my money. I guess I should sell it, it was always a bit big for two people. It'll need to be cleaned up, R-Remus really did a number of it the night he - the night he..."

The warm hand on his shoulder squeezed down again as Harry trailed off, tears pressing at the back of his eyes. They'd reached the bottom of the stairs, the sounds of the combined Hummel-Hudson family drifting towards them from the kitchen. Mr Schuester let Harry take a few deep breaths, calm himself down, before he spoke.

"All the details can come later, after dinner. How about we just let everyone know what's happening and leave the rest 'til morning, okay?"

"Yeah, that's - yeah," Harry impatiently wiped his eye on his sleeve, pushing his glasses up his forehead carelessly as he did it. "Sorry, I'm just - thinking about him is still - "

"The wound is still fresh," Mr Schuester nodded, squeezing Harry's shoulder again before beginning to steer them towards the kitchen. "You don't have to talk about it yet. Just whenever you're ready."

The kitchen was bright and loud, with Kurt and Finn arguing over whether to have butter or salt-less butter-like spread, Burt called basketball scores from the little TV over the fridge to Carole, and Carole herself trying to squeeze in between the arguing teenagers to get something out of the fridge. Something was cooking away on the stove, and a line of potatoes in foil were visible in the oven. It was such a domestic, family scene that for a moment Harry felt jealous - then hopelessly out of place.

_I wouldn't know what to do if I were living here. It's all so loud and overwhelming... living with Mr Schuester is a much better plan._

When the family noticed Harry and Mr Schuester standing in the doorway the noise tapered off. Burt looked at where the teacher's hand still rested on Harry's shoulder and smiled a little. Harry nodded to him, and Burt nodded back and stood up, walking over to pull Harry into a rough hug.

"You always got a place here if you need it," he mumbled into the boy's hair. Harry nodded against his chest, leaning against the man gratefully.

"Wait, so you are gonna live with Mr Schue?" Finn asked, sounding a little put out. Burt pulled away so Harry could nod and smile up at the teacher, and the tall teenager pouted. "Aw, man. I was kinda looking forward to having you around."

"Finn," Carole muttered warningly, and Finn hurried to reassure Harry.

"I mean, that's cool if you want to live with Mr Schue, he's really great and I'm sure it'll be good and stuff, I just like hanging out with you," Finn rambled, looking wide-eyed and frantic. Harry couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up, and he shook his head.

"We can still spend time together, Finn. I'll be visiting Kurt a lot, anyway," Harry looked to his boyfriend, his smile fading a little at the disappointment Kurt was failing to hide. Harry hesitated, looking up at his boyfriend with hopeful eyes. Kurt sighed a little.

"Does this mean I get to decorate another room?" he asked Mr Schuester, his lips quirking into a reluctant smile. Harry looked over his shoulder at the teacher in time to see the man laugh and nod.

"Well I planned to give Harry a small redecorating budget, so I don't see why you can't help him if he wants you to," Mr Schuester shot Harry an amused look, and Harry frowned.

"You don't have to pay for it, Mr Schuester, it's not like I don't have the money," he protested, but the teacher shook his head.

"If you're my ward you don't have to pay for things like that," he told Harry firmly, raising a hand to ward of his attempts to protest. "Look, how about I give you a budget, and if you want to go over you pay the difference. Sound fair?"

"If you're sure," Harry agreed reluctantly, still frowning a little. Kurt sighed again and came forward to draw Harry into a hug. Mr Schuester followed Burt to the kitchen table and Finn wandered over to look over his mother's shoulders into the pot. Kurt pressed a peck to the top of Harry's head before pulling away, looking into Harry's eyes.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked softly, running his hands up and down Harry's arms. Harry nodded.

"I think it will be good for me," he admitted, smiling up at his boyfriend. "And I actually got a say in it, which is very exciting for me."

Kurt giggled and leaned down to kiss him, pulling back after a moment to grin, "I'm already thinking about colour schemes. God, I love decorating."

"Well at least one of us does," Harry huffed out a laugh, and started to tug Kurt towards the table. "Come on; let's have dinner before we start thinking about it. I'm going to need sustenance, I think."

Carole served the meal a few minutes later, Kurt and Finn tasked with bringing plates and platters to the table. The meal was simple but filling, the conversation was light and funny, and for the first time in a while Harry found himself relaxing around more people than Kurt, Hermione and Ron. He laughed at Finn's stories about the football team, nodded along with Burt's raving about some kind of fancy car he'd worked on this week, and smiled as Mr Schuester described an altercation he'd had with Coach Sylvester. He was engaged in a quiet conversation with Carole on the best way to make pancakes when he realised that Kurt and Finn had begun to argue. He was planning on ignoring it, Finn and Kurt bickering was fairly normal, but he froze when he heard his name.

_Merlin, they're arguing about me again? I thought Finn was okay with me now, is he still worried that I'll hurt Kurt? What else could they be arguing about -_

"I'm just saying, bro, maybe Harry doesn't want you to decorate his room," Finn was saying, rolling his eyes at Kurt's narrow-eyed glare. Harry relaxed when he realised the argument wasn't serious, but he couldn't help but frown as Finn went on. "Dude, seriously, you made his old room look girlier than Rachel's, you should let him do what he wants."

"Finn," Burt warned his stepson, shooting the magical teen a worried look, but Harry was stifling a chuckle in his hand and shaking his head. Kurt huffed, drawing himself up as tall as he could as he glared at his brother.

"I'll have you know, _Finnegan_, that Harry _did _decorate his own room. I just helped."

"Oh come on, man," Finn laughed a little, shooting Harry a knowing look over Kurt's head, apparently not noticing Harry's rising blush and awkward glance to his boyfriend. "It was, like, purple and sparkly and stuff. Like you didn't pick that out."

"I like purple," Harry protested softly, his cheeks flushing red. "Kurt's telling the truth, I picked out the paint and the furniture, he just helped me with the details and finding things that matched and stuff."

Finn's knowing expression slipped into dumbfounded as Kurt smirked triumphantly. The tall boy spluttered, "Wait, no, but it - it looked like a girl's room!"

"Finn!" both Carole and Burt cried out at this point, looking equally exasperated. Kurt shot Finn another glare as he tried to defend himself.

"But it was all purple and sparkly and the furniture looked like it belonged in Quinn's room and_ the bedspread was floral!"_

"It was paisley," Kurt snipped, tossing his head and turning back to his dinner, catching Harry's hand in one of his and resting them on the table. "Just because your idea of decorating is cowboy patterned wallpaper and clashing shades of plaid doesn't mean nobody else has an eye for style."

"Purple is my favourite colour," Harry added, still a little embarrassed by the turn the conversation had taken. "It was my mum's and I've always found it, I don't know, soothing, I guess. R-Remus says - said - that mum always wore it and it's comforting, you know? Even if I don't really remember her."

"Oh," Finn looked down at his dinner, and Harry hurried to fill the awkward silence.

"And the furniture is all fancy because my old school was full of antiques and stuff," he smiled a little, thinking of his first reaction to the fancy four-poster bed he'd found in the dorm room in his first year at Hogwarts. It seemed like the ultimate luxury, a big comfortable bed with warm blankets and a comforting canopy of heavy red velvet, and that feeling of safety never really went away. The almost lacy intricacy of antique or medieval style furniture always made him feel safe.

As he thought about it, though, he realised that really wasn't what he wanted now. Harry began to picture a new room at Mr Schuester's apartment; it was sure to be smaller, have less room for ornament. And Harry really didn't want anything that looked like his room at the house he'd shared with Remus. How could he sleep in anything like the room that he'd been so painfully betrayed in? Now when he thought about safety he thought about Kurt's room, with its sleek lines and modern twist.

"You okay, sweetie?" Kurt elbowed him gently, just a nudge, and Harry looked up at him blankly. "You went all quiet there. Don't listen to Finn, he just doesn't understand style."

"Neither do I, let's be honest," Harry grinned, shrugging a little sheepishly when everyone at the table relaxed. "Sorry, just got lost in thought. About decorating, actually. I think if I'm decorating a new room I want it to be a bit different."

"Oh, of course, it's a chance for a whole new look!" and Kurt was off, making suggestions and having bolts of inspiration. Harry just sat back and ate quietly, smiling at the way Kurt's eyes sparkled with excitement.

_Now I just have to get well enough to leave the house so I can get to Mr Schuester's._


End file.
